


Bilingual

by Tatertot_Piglet (Yarking)



Category: Dream SMP- fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Aliases, Anal Fingering, Asexuality Spectrum, Bottom Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Dream WAS the impostor, Family Dynamics, Fantastic Racism, Gore, Guilt, Hostage Situations, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Internalized Fantastic Racism, M/M, Manipulation, Neurodiversity, Non-Consensual Kissing, Non-Consensual Touching, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Overstimulation, Panic Attacks, Paranoia, Past Violence, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Power Dynamics, Protective Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Protectiveness, Rape/Non-con Elements, Suicidal Ideation, Survivor Guilt, TECHNOBLADE DID NOTHING WRONG, Threats, Top Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Touch-Starved, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, autistic-coded Techno, by like... a LOT, characters not creators, if you squint you could say Phil/Techno nonsexual submission but eeeeeh, intrusive thougts, lol I projected too hard my b, my wife should be proud that I did the comfort this time, non-consensual voyeuristic minor, parental cannibalism?, past alienation, semi-canon sleepy bois inc, suicide baiting, technoblade is baby, technoblade is more comfortable with being stabbed than sex, weaponized attachments
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:40:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28354068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yarking/pseuds/Tatertot_Piglet
Summary: Dream doesn't mind that Tommy is staying with Technoblade.Hedoesmind that Techno tried to lie to him. Emphatically. In fact, ever since their duel in the arena, Dream seems to think Techno hasn't really paid him the respect that he's due.Now Techno finds out how Dream intends to remind him who holds the power here. With Philza in his grasp and Tommy being threatened, violence isn't the language they're speaking this time around, but it is probably the root language at the very least.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 199
Kudos: 1002





	1. Bilingual

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. All characters are representations of the Dream SMP CHARACTERS, not the players that represent them. I don't consider this RPF for that reason but I'll use the tag as a signal boost.  
> 2\. I like all the DreamSMP characters. Villainizing one does not reflect how I feel about the character.  
> 3\. If you think something might upset you, **READ THE TAGS** and make a personal judgement  
> 4\. Techno is in "man-mode" here, meaning his pig traits are minimal (just tusks). No one wants to read hoof-and-corkscrew Techno. Yet. Unless... ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) hmu  
> 5\. Subscribe to Technoblade
> 
> Techo strikes me as having BIG sex-adverse ace energy. Maybe because he reminds me so much of a Caduceus Clay that drinks BLOOD instead of tea.

Technoblade hadn’t really expected Dream to show up at his home again, at least not for some time. He hadn’t been invited (obviously) and he didn’t announce himself (as per usual), but appeared in Techno’s yard at the edge of the torches’ light, pale mask seeming to float against the green of the woods behind him.

Techno only discovered him when he went out to feed Karl, and only then because he glimpsed something off out of the corner of his eye, and the Voices murmured and hissed warnings and their most common demand. He tucked away Karl’s hay feed in exchange for his sword, but remained silent and still.

If he saw Dream, it was almost certain it was because Dream wanted to be seen.

“Don’t you, ah… don’t you have somewhere to be?” Techno asked at last, voice flat and even.

Dream said nothing, and then the floating face bobbed and drew closer until the light revealed the rest of his body. Just a human, just a man. But Techno knew that already. He’d taken Dream in the arena before. He could do it again if need be.

“Why don’t you invite me inside, Techno? I think we should have a chat.”

The fine hairs at the back of Techno’s neck stood on end, clambering to bristle thick and reveal the beastly form he suppressed. The Voices continued to demand, but they were distant and avoidable, and he knew there was no purpose in fighting now. The promise he made to Phil still weighed on him. He could master himself and his urges. He didn’t need to give Dream a reason to drag him back to the execution he helped to thwart.

Dream had the grace to wait for Techno to let him in instead of barging past, so the semblance of politeness was still maintained. Dream’s words had been light and cheerful, and really they had been nothing but civil to one another for some time. “Is this about your wish?”

Dream turned, standing in the center of his small living room, and let his presence take up the space. Under the mask, Techno imagined he was smiling. “No.”

“Then?”

“Techno, you know I’m more powerful than you, right?”

Techno stiffened. The threat was too brazen for him to even be offended, he was just alert. Considered his home advantage. Whether he could make it to his chests. He didn’t have enough arrows. Dream wasn’t wearing armor, though, and Techno felt the weight of his sword in his hand. “Pretty sure I won our match in the arena there.”

Dream laughed and sat himself down on the narrow bed. He drummed his fingers on the wooden box, and Techno _knew_ he was smiling then. “Oh, yeah. Yeah. You’re stronger for sure. I just said I was more powerful.” Dream nodded across from himself, and Techno moved slowly and took a seat without taking his eyes off him. “What did you say, before? ‘The only universal language is violence, and we’ve had that talk’?”

With his words to Tommy mirrored back to him, Techno felt his heart sink. Dream had heard them then. Dream could have killed them all then, at the night of the festival.

Even then, Dream had been there, silently. Listening. How many times had Techno skulked around L’Manberg with invisibility? Of course he hadn’t been the only one. Just the only one to use his abilities to tear down signs and visit old friends.

“Well Techno, we’ve had that talk too, and you did have some real good rhetoric when we did. But violence isn’t the only language there is. Power is, and there are more kinds of power in the world than brute strength. Isn’t that why you hate the government so much?”

Should he strike first?

Should he hit now and use that advantage?

“A bit reductive, but sure, you could say that.” No, not yet. Dream was no longer pretending at being amicable with his open taunting, but it wasn’t a direct threat. He was just like this. He needed to remember that if Dream was angling for a fight, they would be fighting.

So what was the angle?

“A lot of people think you’re pretty scary, Technoblade. I don’t think you’re that scary, though. I think I understand you. And for the most part, I like what I see!”

“Thanks.”

“You’ve got your whole blood god… thing, yeah. But you’re actually a pretty noble guy. I’ve seen you stick to your convictions even when it’s inconvenient or dangerous for you. You try to keep your promises. And you’re honest about what you’re about. That’s great!” The drumming on the side box stopped, and Dream fanned his fingers out flat. Sat up straighter. Stared at him through the mask, completely inscrutable. “So imagine my surprise when you lie to me about having seen Tommy.”

Techno felt himself go cold, and the heartbeat thundering in his chest felt like it was beating against cracking ice. The grip on his sword tightened. Time slipped by during a long, thick silence.

“Why would I lie?”

“Because you’re loyal. Another positive trait people tend to overlook in you.”

An in. Techno felt a flicker of hope, and schooled his response into careful nonchalance. “Never been a strong suit. My allegiance has always been to myself.”

“And those you get attached to, like Karl.”

“Karl’s a horse, not a bratty kid.”

Dream laughed outright. “Admit it. You’ve got a little soft spot for your little rebel gang. Why else would lie to me?”

“I killed Tubbo, remember?”

“When you were surrounded. While you were pretty sure he was turning traitor. Come on Techno, we could both see it. He was getting too chummy with the king. The king you had as a sworn enemy. The king who asked you to do it. That’s the kind of power a government has.”

“And what power do you think you have over me?” Techno demanded, standing to his full height. He pushed back his cape to flash the flat of his sword in warning. The pressure he felt at the night of the attempted execution was back, pressing and pushing him to act, to act now. He could barely swallow down the instinct and the eternal demand of the Voices. “What makes you think you can come here and accuse-”

“It’s not an accusation. It’s a fact. I know Tommy stays here. And _they_ all know _I’m_ here. And if I don’t go back, they’ll come here to look for me.”

And there it was. The words settled in the air, and took their time to sink into Techno’s gut. The prickling on the back of his neck was replaced with a wash of cold and sweat began to pool. The sword felt heavier in his hand, like a weight more than a weapon. It’s tip wilted to rest on the floor.

Techno said nothing.

“You survived last time because of me. And you might be able to take Karl and make it out of here before they hunt you down. But Tommy won’t.”

Techno remained silent. He struggled to keep his breathing even, to suppress a wracking shiver, and to remind himself uselessly that it’s not his responsibility, not really. He could fight. He could leave. Now. He could.

But Tommy wouldn’t.

And he had made a promise.

When Dream broke the hush, his words were quiet, modest of every drop of leverage he had. “Technoblade. Techno. Drop your sword.”

And he did.

The sound of the diamond hilt hitting his own floorboards was deafeningly loud. It and the feeling of vibrations the impact sent up his boots made Techno give an unperceivable shudder.

“What do you want?” he asked, sounding like he felt: hollow. “For Tommy’s safety, and to be left alone. What do you want?”

“Not much, really. See, I don’t care about Tommy so long as he stays out of L’Manberg. But I know you want me to leave him alone, and I don’t like that you lied to me. After I helped you escape and everything. I expected some of that loyalty to come to me like it did for your rebel party. But I suppose you haven’t respected me as much since our time in the arena. I just want to fix that.”

Dream leaned in, and the vacant smile on his mask looked viciously gleeful.

“I want to make you respect me, Techno. I want to make you _afraid_ of me.”

He stood then, and gestured to the bed smoothly. “Get on.”

Realization dawned. A cold, still side of him sat in his chest as Technoblade breathed in. He held it, and let it rattling out after a pause, hating how he felt constricted by his own rib cage. Techno stepped forward and put one knee on the bed and pushed himself to his hands so he was kneeling.

“Oh, ha, no. Not like that.”

Dream’s hand encircled his bicep, and Techno jumped under the touch. Something shuddered under the growing numbness, indignant and vulnerable.

When was the last time someone had touched him without trying to kill him? He could count the times he had permitted Phil to on one hand after the first time and Techno explained shortly after he didn’t like to be touched. Wilbur hadn’t liked touch much either, and Tubbo had been away in L’Manberg for some time. Tommy… wasn’t as good at remembering not to touch him.

Probably Tommy. Yes. When he was helping him into his new armor. Tommy had said he could do it himself, but he put the chestplate on backwards.

A laugh gurgled up from his throat at the thought, and at the fact that Dream was pulling Techno’s own netherite armor off now, tossing it onto his folded cape. When had that happened, he wondered, as Dream lifted his crown off and set it carefully to the side.

“No need to break your stuff, too,” Dream said cheerfully.

“Why?” Techno’s own voice sounded distant to himself. “Why not…”

“Turn around,” Dream commanded, and for a moment Techno thought that he might have had a change of heart. But when he obeyed, he just felt Dream untying the red sash at his waist, where it was tied at the small of his back. The fingers brushed against his spine as he worked at the knot, and Techno’s chest felt perilously tight. “Because, like I said, this isn’t about violence.”

The sash fell away, and Dream untucked the white linen of Techno’s shirt before his hands slipped under and cupped Techno’s side. He kneaded at the bare skin there, brushing his thumb over the well of an old, ropey scar.

That was usually under four layers of clothing and a set of armor. Dream’s nails scratched lightly. To a different person, in different circumstances, it might have been soothing, even enticing. It made Techno feel sick. He could feel his throat burn with bile, but swallowed it down.

“You understand violence. You can’t really be afraid of something you understand.”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Techno managed to choke out. He lurched forward, out of Dream’s range, and turned to face him. His mouth was dry and a fine tremor wouldn’t leave his hands, even when he folded them over the space where his sash should be. “You’ve made your point. You’ve gotten what you wanted.”

“Not everything. Now I’m curious, too.”

“That wasn’t what we negotiated.”

“It wasn’t a negotiation,” Dream laughed, stepping forward. “You don’t exactly have leverage here.”

“You said you wanted me afraid.”

Dream stopped where he was approaching, mask starring ever-blank forward. “And?”

“And you… you got what you wanted.”

“Say it.”

Techno’s finger’s fisted in his loose shirt, grounding himself and pressing knuckles into where his stomach was knotting. He opened his mouth, and a syllable creaked out. “I-...”

“You…” Dream prompted, but when Techno remained rictus-stiff, his coaxing, outstretched hands balled into fists. “What do you think Quackity will do when he gets his hands on Tommy? He tried to execute you, and that was before you escaped and humiliated him in the tunnel. He’d make it slow, Techno. He’d-”

“I AM!”

The weight lodged in his chest ruptured, and Techno went from having not enough air to too much. His breath came in ragged, uneven pants. His eyes stung, but he didn’t cry. He couldn’t remember ever crying, wasn’t even sure if he could, but he felt all the worst things. The animal part of him felt trapped, felt like his territory was compromised and his home corrupted.

Dream was right. Techno could handle being stabbed. That was old hat; that was his life.

He couldn’t stand being touched.

“I am,” he repeated between shallow gasps.

“You are what?” Dream prompted, and he closed the distance between them, drawing up his full height. He was shorter than Techno, but he didn’t feel it, and Techno bowed protectively over his belly so they were eye level. Even then, something had changed. The prompt was soft and inevitable, and unyielding.

“I’m afraid.”

The only sounds in the silence was Techno’s rattling breath and the soft, subtle squeak of the wooden floorboard near the head of the bed. Techno’s head jerked up, and Dream’s unreadable mask revealed nothing. Instead, Dream took the last half-step between them, so close that their body’s brushed, and Techno could feel the heat radiating off Dream’s green wraps.

“Of what?”

“I’m afraid of you.”

It was what Dream wanted, and it was the correct answer. Techno hoped that it would be enough, that Dream would back away and leave as if it were just a joke, but Techno knew that wasn’t going to happen.

Instead, Dream’s hand came up to his mask and pushed it up a few inches, revealing the bizarrely _human_ skin beneath. Two pairs of lips, pale pink and parted, leaned forward and sealed against Techno’s own mouth. A wet tongue, thicker than Techno would have imagined a tongue being, pushed into him. Breath hotter and more humid than he had guessed caught around his teeth.

“Stay,” Dream commanded between his long, lazy kissing. Techno hadn’t realized that he leaned away reflexively until Dream’s hands on his back fisted in the fabric of his shirt and firmly pulled him back. It made Dream’s arms gather on either of his sides, and with Dream in front of him (in him, with that invasive tongue rolling over his), Techno was crowded and boxed in.

“Please.”

“Please what?”

“Please _stop_.”

“Can you make me, Technoblade?” Dream asked, and the hands blissfully retreated, until Techno could feel them working the buttons of his shirt loose. “You’re strong enough, but are you powerful enough?”

“No,” Techno breathed, his own hands hovering uselessly at his own waist. Was he even allowed to push him away? Would Tommy be punished for that? Was it worth the risk?

No. He could take this. He wasn’t a masochist, and he took the rest of it, didn’t he? He’s made it through everything else.

Dream unfastened the last button of his shirt and slipped him out of the sleeves. Techno could only hear the rushing blood in his head; the Voices were utterly silent. Everything narrowed to the broad, bare skin of his chest and the way Dream’s hands hovered over his flesh appraisingly.

And then, Dream stepped back.

“Take off your pants and boots now.”

Techno obeyed without a word, struggling at his laces with how hard his hands were shaking. He wanted to do this fast, both before Dream could change his mind, and to get it over with as quickly as he could. After stepping out of his trousers, Dream took him again by the arm.

“Let me.”

Dream took the sword at his side and put it between them. For a wild moment, Techno thought he was going to be stabbed, and a sickly relief washed over him at the thought. That hope crashed away when Dream hooked a finger in his undergarment and pulled it just far enough away from the skin that his sword could slip under, and with a single easy motion, he cut up and through the fabric over one hip bone, then the other.

Dream pulled away the fabric and stuffed it roughly into his pack. “A souvenir. Now, on the bed. Face up this time. Don’t hide it.”

Dream pushed away Techno’s hands where they tried to shield over his cock and balls, and again when he tried to re-cover them a second time. He took Techno’s sack in his hand after that and gave it a warning squeeze. Techno grunted and straightened like a poll at the pain. Nausea passed over him in a gust, but he kept his hands at chest level, loosely fisted to fight the urge to cover himself.

Techno was about to go to the bed when Dream stopped him, hand fanned out over his bare stomach. “Wait.”

The hope that it was over was enough to make the brief touch tolerable, but Dream simply pulled out Techno’s cape, unfolded it with a flap, and laid it across the bed so the mink of the collar lay over the austere pillow.

“There you go. So you can have a souvenir, too. Every time you wear it.”

The teasing in his voice could have been Dream making fun of a friend missing a shot, or tripping into a hole. But Techno wasn’t a friend.

Techno climbed onto the bed and rolled onto his back, looking up at the ceiling and finding a familiar spot he watched when the Voices made it hard to sleep. The peaceful, spacey lull he could slip into in lieu of sleep was interrupted, of course, by Dream, who took position between Techno’s bent knees.

“What’s in these?” Dream asked, but didn’t wait for an answer before leaning all the way over Techno and reaching to the distillery set he had past the side table box. Techno might have replied, but the feeling of Dream’s unmistakable cock pressing against his ass through Dream’s pants drove the thoughts from his mind and replaced them with panic.

It was instinct. He thrashed, bucked, and quite nearly threw Dream off entirely before Dream managed to get a hand around his throat and squeeze. Techno’s own hands shot up to pull Dream’s grip off, but Dream simply leaned his body weight into the grasp. Techno struggled to relieve the pressure enough to breathe, and his thoughts came in frantic leaps over the descending fog of strangulation.

“You have to stop,” Dream repeated over him, patient and amused. His lips were quirked into a smug smile.

He had to stop. It wasn’t just Tommy. They already had Phil. Techno’s already flagging struggle fell away, and he let the grip on his throat close, loathing that he was relying on Dream’s mercy above his own strength. But he was merciful, at least in this, and not long after Techno stilled, palms up in supplication, Dream released him with a jovial pat to his cheek.

“I’ll let you have that one because this must be hard for you, but you gotta behave yourself.”

Techno was too busy coughing hoarsely to respond with words; he nodded, eyes watering.

Dream reached over him again, but the contact didn’t happen again as he rose to his knees to reach the brewing stand. Back in his line of sight, Techno saw Dream holding one of his potions. He uncorked it and wafted the fumes towards him. “Healing, Techno? I didn’t know you used these.”

He didn’t, at least not often. Just for accidents when he was careless, but they had been crucial when training Tommy to not embarrass himself in a fight. Techno remained silent. Dream shrugged off the lack of response, instead pouring some of the potion into his palm. He made a show of coating his fingers in the shimmering fuschia.

“Alright. This is the easy part. You can just stay still and I’ll do the rest. I just need you to do one thing for me.”

He lifted the mask.

“Keep eye contact.”

Techno stared, pinned under a terrifyingly peaceful gaze. He had never seen Dream’s face before. No one had seen Dream’s face before. Had they? Was this something for Techno alone? Why? Why this, now? Techno’s stomach churned. The corners of his vision darkened before he remembered to breathe.

“What-...”

“I want you to know who’s doing this to you,” he explained simply. A cold, damp finger touched the inside of his thigh and slipped lower, trailing a wet line to the crease of his leg and groin. Even then, the face above remained impossibly more unreadable and blank than the mask had. 

Dream could have been doing anything. He could have been reading, listening to one of the records, or just watching the peaceful, empty streets of L’Manberg at night. He didn’t look like someone pushing a finger into Techno, prying him open like peeling away a slice of meat. Techno choked at the invasion.

It didn’t even hurt.

The potion was thick and slippery and soothing on his walls as Dream worked his way in slivers at a time, and it didn’t even hurt. It was a halting process, a press that took ages as Dream stopped every time Techno needed time to adjust, and Techno’s core was constantly flinching and tightening around the intrusion until the muscles gave way to fatigue. All the while Dream looked down at him, blinking at last only when the second knuckles pushed past the ring of resistance.

For Techno’s part, he remained obedient. He was tight beyond his control from the mounting horror, but he remained on his back, hands on either side of his head, balled into fists to keep from doing something stupid. He kept his eyes level on Dream’s, and the eyrie emptiness of the expression made it easier to think of it as an object, rather than the face of a person.

Techno had almost reached an equilibrium, had settled into a comfortable distance away from his body and Dream’s scrutiny, when the finger finally bottomed out in him, and Dream spoke.

“Tell me how it feels.”

Techno slurred, dazed. “What?”

“I want you to tell me how my finger feels inside you.”

“Long,” Techno confessed. It felt longer than it looked, reaching so far into him that he could feel its presence higher than he had imagined. “It’s-...”

He trailed off, at a loss for words. It felt like a nail running through his body, but absurdly missing the accompanying pain. It was almost like being stabbed, knowing that the true pain of it was welling up and walled off behind a deluge of adrenaline, but he knew the pain was there when he was stabbed. He knew it was waiting for him, like a dependable friend. But here, Techno was split, forced apart, a part of his space taken by something that he wasn’t even fighting. Something just taking up inside him like it deserved to be there.

“You’re shaking pretty bad,” Dream noted. He sounded like he was holding back a laugh, and he smiled, but none of that feeling reached his eyes. They remained round and fixed and smooth of the wrinkles of a genuine smile. “Does it hurt?”

Technoblade shook his head just a degree to either side. If he stayed still, the full shape of the finger inside him faded into a general pressure, and he didn’t have to truly feel pierced as he was. At least, until the finger started moving.

Dream flexed his finger slowly, curling up and uncurling, working the digit slowly out until his fingertip once again remained pressed like a promise against Techno’s hole, only to start the long, slow process over again. It was just as arduous the second time, but by the third the muscles in his channel were growing lax with fatigue, and he entered easier.

What’s worse, the curling finger began to lance over his gland, making the tendon that ran from his crotch to thigh jump with flashes of humiliating arousal. All the while, Dream goaded him to stay in his skin and focus.

“The great Technoblade getting off to being put in his place? It must be boring, being invincible. Were you waiting for something like this?”

Techno couldn’t speak around his grit teeth, but his eyes stung in shame. It would be pointless to deny the effect Dream was having when he’s cock was very visibly beginning to slowly plump up. Dream expedited the process, taking it in his free hand and working it with rough efficiency. His thumb smeared over his slit and swiped the budding precome aroundnd the edge of the head, rubbing at the flare. Where his foreskin wrinkled just under the corona, Dream plucked and teased until Techno was twisting his hips and taking little sips of air in a chain of short gasps.

“Dream-” he finally managed to choke out. His eyes rolled as his legs jumped again. “Dream- please-... please don’t-”

“I won’t, not yet. Not on my _fingers_ , Techno,” Dream promised, as a second finger pressed against Techno’s hole. Techno squirmed as hard as he dared (not hard) but Dream released his cock at last. By this point, it was fully hard, its own point of pressure and need, and the slap of it against his belly as it dropped made Techno groan.

Techno tilted his head back into the ruff of his coat and tried to catch his breath. The two fingers inside him were curling and scissoring faster, and Dream occasionally dribbled more of the potion at his entrance. He pushed the makeshift lube in, and the wet, obscene squelching sounded loud under the labor of their breathing, sounded like butchery.

“Forget where you were supposed to be looking?”

Dream’s hand was on his head, laced in his hair along his hairline, and pulled his face up so his neck was forcibly craned down to look back at Dream’s empty eyes. The fingers withdrew for just long enough to hike one of Techno’s knees over his shoulder, folding Techno at the waist.

“If you don’t want to look at me,” Dream said, “you are welcome to watch the show instead.”

Back bent, Techno could see Dream pushing his fingers back in, adding a third this time. The stretch was a distant burn, with the potion lube soothing away even the discomfort of taking such a girth so quickly. His scalp still hurt; the grip Dream had in his hair kept Techno from turning away, but the way his hips were tilted push some of his weight in the grip, and Techno had to plant his hand and bend nearly in half to keep a fist-sized hank from being pulled out altogether.

The new angle made the penetration feel deeper and tightened his core again, so the fingers boring into him were just on the edge of hurting. Without the potion’s magical effect, Techno imagined he’d have torn by now. Now, the intensity of the friction and haze of the pain-endorphins with no wound to mask pair together and stoked the heat deep in Techno’s gut. The leg over Dream’s shoulder kicked reflexively more and more often, jerking from the sudden surge of arousal that jabbed into him every time Dream’s fingers lanced across his prostate. He felt himself coiling in, gripping his worn cloak in his fists and clenching his teeth hard to choke down the moans pushing at the pit of his throat. The angle made him tight, which meant the press against his walls were harder, the friction sweeter.

And suddenly, the wash of heat abated. Dream released his hair and let his leg drop, and Techno fell back, panting hard. He couldn’t see Dream. A curtain of hair covered his face, sticking to his forehead and cheeks with slick sweat. He may not be able to cry, but his face and hair was already drenched from the effort. His whole body was flushed and damp, judging by the way that Dream’s hand on the underside of his thigh glided smoothly over his skin, petting long, even strokes up and down as if settling an animal.

Techno heard the soft, hollow sound of another potion being uncorked, and the wet sound of flesh set another wave of nausea off in Techno’s belly. At least it would be over soon. Soon. Hands hooked back under Techno’s knees, this time both of them, and he felt his hips tilted up and pressed back, and suddenly Dream’s face leered down at him through the tangle of hair, blotting out the lamplight. Techno could see Dream resting the back of Techno’s knees on his shoulders, pushing him down until he was nearly doubled over completely, and could feel Dream’s hand groping for Techno’s hole.

Spongey, wet flesh pressed against his opening, guided in by Dream’s hand. It was wider by a sizable amount, but with both legs hiked up and pushed so far back, and with so much work and time put into opening him already, Techno’s hole spread around Dream’s broad cockhead slowly and smoothly.

If felt impossibly warm at his entrance. Hot and slick, with what would have been pain being channeled into heat and friction and crackling pleasure that made Techno keen. Once the head passed the tight ring of muscle, hole closing around the widest part of his head as if pulling Dream in greedily, Dream brought both of his hands forward, first brushing Techno’s hair out of his face, then cupping his jaw with a mocking tenderness that burned at the remains of Techno’s pride and made his throat tight in shame.

But Dream gave him no quarter. Dream’s lips were soon on Techno’s, kissing and coaxing the lips open until Techno reluctantly parted them for Dream’s access. The kiss was thick and cloying, and the melting warmth felt intolerable. Steeped in his sweat, Techno felt overheated alongside being overwrought with sensation, but his wordless, clumsy noises for air and clarity was ignored.

Dream’s hands roamed as he sunk down slowly into Techno. His fingers traced scars in a strange, echoed threat, bringing up the memories of each old wound through Techno’s muddled mind. Dream could do so much worse, and _not just to him_ , so Techno willed himself to remain still, tried to strangle down the sounds gurgling up from his chest, a wounded animal.

Fingers skated past the old memories and stroked the length of his muscles. Down his flanks, up his abdomen and splaying over his chest. Squeezing at his pectorals as he sealed Techno’s mouth with a proprietary edge, thumbs rolling over the nubs of his nipples to tease.

And he was thick. Techno gave a dry sob around Dream’s tongue pushing down into his throat like fucking in miniature, because it was thick. The head bludgeoned through him, prying him apart and grinding hard against his stretched walls and the sore, sensitive mound of his gland. The girth of his shaft was a solid, incessant pressure behind it, keeping him open and raw and split apart. Techno knew Dream’s length was normal, but it still felt like he was plunged halfway up his guts. Couldn’t fathom anything so intimate that didn’t involve viscera.

One hand returned to Techno’s neck as the other finally encircled the base of Techno’s shaft, and he knew he wouldn’t last long. Dream’s fingers skated up the underside, slick and delicious, and they parted around the crown of the head to encircle where his foreskin gathered. Dream kissed him rougher, the hand on his throat gentle but firm, and the web between his fingers caught on the spongy rim of Techno’s head as he drew his palm over his tip, cupping and palming down to smear more precome down Techno’s shaft.

Dream bottomed out in him then, seated like a sword deep inside him, and Techno gave another dry sob. He turned his head to the side, absent squirm under the flood of sensation, the terror of the closeness, Dream’s limbs and fingers a cage around him even as he stabbed in and drew himself slowly out, only to thrust himself down in a short, sharp jab.

“Don’t turn away from me, Techno.”

A strong hand on his jaw, first guiding and then forcing Techno’s mouth back against Dream’s, lips smashing down on him, and a click of teeth against Techno’s small tusks. Dream’s thrusting became more regular, driving into him in time with the rough strokes he gave to Techno’s aching cock.

“Pl-... Dr-” Techno managed between the claiming kisses. He felt his lip bust and the tang of blood scent in his nose and mouth, but the pain never came. Healing was still absorbed into his skin, pumping in his blood, and his own looming orgasm bore down on him and chased away any other senses. He still tried to beg into Dream’s mouth, but the words were muffled and useless.

He writhed, toes curling as the pace of the hand on his cock and of Dream’s thrusting started to peak, and he could feel himself clench down. In one terrifying moment, Dream stole everything, took away his most precious weapon, made him useless and weak, and his body was wracked in helpless spasm as he came hard on Dream’s cock driving down into him and the hand stroking him through the orgasm.

He screamed, grasped onto his cape, the edge of the bed, anything to brace and moor himself and push against as the tight, shuddering waves pulsed through him. He could feel his come stripeing up his stomach, but couldn’t control how he arched and pushed against Dream’s weight atop him. Worse than a cage, he was trapped in his own body, feeling puppeted by the depth of his own release.

\--

He came back to his senses in steps. Groggy and wrecked and sore and damp, and just aware of Dream wiping away the come at his hole.

Techno blinked wearily. The come leaking out of his hole. That must have meant Dream came in him at some point. That meant…

Techno puzzled through the blanket of utter exhaustion. That meant he had lost time. Passed out. And Dream had taken it upon himself to use his body like a rag in the meantime. Fury and shame heated him cheeks to chest, and his throat was tight with it.

But it was done. Dream was done. Techno watched as he set the mask back in place, adjusted his green wraps back to where they were, and to anyone else it would have looked like nothing had ever happened.

“You’re not going to lie to me again, Techno.”

It wasn’t a question, but Techno still summoned up the energy to tilt his head in a ‘no’. He wasn’t sure he could speak, mostly from how rough his throat felt.

The cold air of the outside was like a balm when Dream stopped at the doorway. “Tell Tommy that if he steps foot in L’Manberg again… you can’t save him.”

Dream didn’t wait for a response after that. The door shut behind him, and his house returned to silence.

For a few minutes.

“He’s gone,” Techno rasped. He was right. His throat was wrecked.

There was a few more moments of quiet, before the bedside table creaked again. There was a shuffling of clothing, and the side panel of the box dropped open with a clatter against his floorboards.

“Techno?”

Techno shut his eyes, trying his best to focus more on the pulse in his limbs. He could pretend that it was just post-sparring soreness. The ache in his back just from an afternoon of harvesting his crops.

But he had never heard Tommy’s voice so quiet.

“Yeah?”

Tommy was crawling out of the hiding space now, scrambling onto the floor beside Techno’s bed. Techno waited, not wanting to look at him. More specifically, not wanting to see how Tommy looked at him. The quiet hung in the air, delicate as the snow falling outside.

“Uh…” Tommy shuffled beside him. Techno could hear his footsteps echo as he moved. “H-here.”

Techno risked a glance, and the burning shame in his throat morphed and constricted into something else like a blaze of gratitude.

Between them, Tommy held out Techno’s discarded crown for him to take back. Seeing his foggy reflection in one of the gems’ facet made him pause, before he took the crown in hand and returned it to where it belonged. “Thank you.”

He began to shift around, still sitting heavy on the bed, and gathered his cape up to cover most of his naked body. Tommy hovered, arms folded over his chest like he was trying to keep out the cold. “Y’know…”

Techno stiffened again, and braced for Tommy’s typical insensitivity to raise its annoying head. He wasn’t prepared for… anything right now. “What?”

“When we do go back to L’Manberg…” Tommy decided, choosing his words slowly in a show of thoughtfulness that made Techno soft on the kid. “I think we should put at least… like… five withers in Dream’s house alone. At least.”

Techno gave a weak huff of laughter behind a suddenly grim grin. Some things didn’t change. It was a small comfort, but like a flickering torch, a warm one. “Tommy, I don’t think he even has a house.”


	2. Art Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Instead of writing the many, many things I want to, both in continuation of this story and others, I drew a pretty piggu boy.

[Explicit artwork illustration of previous chapter](https://i.postimg.cc/jdvq1Mr4/bilingual.png)

Preview:


	3. Big Brothers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy struggles with guilt.
> 
> Techno struggles with being human in a very human way. He also struggles with being inhuman in a very human way.
> 
> Phil is everyone's dad now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note: more warning tags have been added.

There was a woodpecker in the forest.

Or some kind of thumpity bird, Tommy didn’t know which. But the thumping didn’t sound like a bird call, and he didn’t know what else would make a noise like that, and he couldn’t think of anything else that would make that noise.

Tktktktk.

_ Tktktktk. _

Tommy jumped every single time. Maybe it was moose. Mooses? No, moose. Moose headbutting their antlers together.

_ (Wilbur would have called the antlers their ‘rack’, and Tommy would have made jokes about racks and boobs, and Wilbur would think he was hilarious, and Techno would pretend he wasn’t smiling because he had that cooler-than-you vibe he had to keep up, and Tubbo-) _

It wasn’t a moose. Unless they were very well choreographed, the thumping was too in sync. It was probably a woodpecker.

It could be a person, but probably not. Techno said not to expect Dream or anyone else for a while, if ever. That’s why he let Tommy out to collect wood in the forest next door. He was safe here. And he was feeling cooped up stuck in the tiny cottage.

He picked up another log of birch.

Not that they needed it. If Tommy was afraid that Techno wouldn’t want to leave after Dream’s visit, he soon found out that Techno had the opposite problem. Tommy hardly saw him at the cottage any more, unless it was to tinker with his brewing stands or put up supplies that he brought back. Tommy had no idea where he went during the day, going through the portal and leaping from cliff to cliff to ditch him when Tommy did try to follow, but he would come back with more oak logs than Tommy knew what to do with, and new batches of food and ore. They had a ton of crossbows, and Tommy was beginning to think of one furnace as ‘the one that always has a gold sword being melted in it’.

_ (He had caught Techno one afternoon when Tommy came in to rest and warm up from training outside. Tommy was climbing up from the basement after a nap, and he stopped on the last rung of the ladder to see Techno standing stock still, back towards him. A slice of glistering melon was on the ground, beneath Techno’s open and sticky hand. Tommy could see the sunlight glinting off the broken glass. A dropped potion. A familiar scent. Techno’s ragged breathing. Tommy, a coward, climbing down as silently as he could.) _

But he could be helpful! It was the least,  _ the least _ he could do. Techno had postponed their training, but not really. He never actually said he was postponing it, but he just… stopped dragging Tommy out to spar at bumfuck o’ clock in the morning. He’d never been so... crushed to sleep in in his life.

But, y’know. Man needed his space.

Tktktktk.

_ Tktktktk. Nails on wood. _

Tommy’s heart jumped to his throat.

That was a load of bollocks, though, and he knew it. He ‘should’ leave, but no, he  _ wanted  _ to leave. He  _ should  _ apologize. How do you start that talk? Should he? Should he… bring it up? Just out of the blue like that? No, why would Techno want to talk about that, don’t be  _ stupid _ , Tommy. 

He could ignore it. That sounded… that felt wrong, too. Worse.

But because it was wrong for Techno? Or because he felt guilty?

Tktktktk.

_ Tktktktk. Dream’s fingers drummed on the wooden panel over his head, and Tommy held his breath. _

_ ‘So imagine my surprise when you lie to me about having seen Tommy.’ _

_ The cabin was always cold, but it still managed to feel like he was being doused with ice water. His hands clasped over his mouth to force down a whimper. His eyes screwed shut, but he could hear the two moving so close to him, close enough to touch him, were it not for the box. He could hear Techno denying it, covering for him. _

_ He could hear everything. _

“Oh sod off!” Tommy shouted out in the direction he thought the bird might be in. The hollow sound echoed, so it was hard to pinpoint exactly where it was coming from.

“I can come back if this is a bad time,” Techno offered behind him.

Tommy jumped in surprise, dropping his wood to the ground and whirling around. “Techno!” He let out a sigh of relief. “No I-... the bird. I didn’t know you were there.”

“I can be sneaky,” Techno said amicably.

“Wh-what’re you doing here?”

Techno paused where he was helping Tommy gather the dropped wood and raised one eyebrow. “Tommy, we’ve been through this. I live here.”

“No-like- I mean… I’m glad you are, you’re just-”

“I know.” Techno let out a little huff of laughter.

It was jarring after days of being left alone. No, no… that’s not fair. After giving him space. It was jarring after giving him space for so long that he just… come back and bullies him. Like nothing happened. Like he’s fine.

He was suddenly angry at it, suddenly  _ furious _ . “That’s it? ‘I know’? Oh, like nothing happened? You’re just going to pretend that nothing happened?”

In an instant, Tommy regretted it, and in the same instant, Techno’s expression shuttered back into cool neutrality. The woodpecker went off again, and Tommy jumped, and hated himself for it.

Techno looked at him for a long moment, and his neutrality flickered over several thoughts that Tommy couldn’t quite parse. And then Techno looked tired and grim and uncomfortably mortal in a way Tommy had never quite seen before. He didn’t like it.

“I didn’t mean-”

“No.” Techno said, and held up his palm to silence him. “Please. You’re right. I’m sorry, Tommy.”

Tommy paused. Opened his mouth to speak. Wait. “You’re-... what?”

“Eh…” Techno stalled, eyes sliding away from Tommy as he spoke slowly. “I was acting… cowardly. I’m not great with kids, Tommy. I don’t know what to say to help you, and I don’t want to fuck it up.”

“To help  _ me _ ?” Tommy asked before he could help himself. “Why would you be trying to help  _ me _ ? Nothing happened to _ me. _ ”

Techno looked like he was going to say something, paused, and thought better of it. Instead he turned and motioned with his shoulder for Tommy to follow. “We can talk back in the cottage.”

Tommy scrambled to pick up the last of his dropped wood, leaving a few logs behind as he scuttled after Techno. They walked in silence back as it began to pepper down snow, and at a few points Techno paused and waited for him to catch up. When they finally reached the door, Techo ushered him in first before shrugging off his coat and hanging it off an unused brewing stand.

“Sit down,” he commanded.

Tommy didn’t take orders, really, but he was feeling awkward and confused enough that he took a chair automatically.

“Hungry?” Techno asked.

“M’okay.”

Techno hummed in acknowledgment and turned his attention to the pantry chest. He poured himself some mushroom soup with chunks of potato and what looked like beef floating in it and sat across from Tommy. It was only when Techno crossed his leg to settle on his other knee that he settled down completely and spoke again.

“Tommy, you’re a child.”

“Oh, well, fuck you too then!”

“It’s not an insult,” Techno continued, patiently. “I’m making a factual observation here. You are not an adult, and even an adult who witnessed what you heard probably wouldn’t make it out without being a least little fucked up about it.”

He can’t believe this. Shame burned at him, that all this would turn around and be about him, when Techno... “I’m not the one who got-... who-”

“You don’t have to be. You went through a pretty fucked up situation, and the only person you had to talk to about it was me. I’m not good with talking about feelings under the best of circumstances if I can help it, and this was definitely not the best of circumstances, but I’m all you got at the moment. You’re my...” Techno hesitated and narrowed his eyes as if reckoning with an unpleasant thought. He sighed. “Responsibility.”

“Being responsible for me is why all this happened in the first place! If you hadn’t had to lie to Dream-”

“I’m just gonna stop you right there. Tommy, do you know how easy it is for me to kill people? Too easy. It’s harder not killing people than it is killing people most days. I choose whether or not I hurt people, though. Sometimes I do, and sometimes I don’t. But either way, I have to own that . I made my decisions, and Dream made his . You didn’t make us do anything, Tommy. I don’t think you could if you tried.”

You didn’t make us do anything.

Tommy’s chest felt tight. That was… that. That. That meant something to him, something he hadn’t expected. The constricted feeling migrated upwards and choked in his throat, making it hard to talk.  “I didn’t say that just to get it all twisted about. We’re supposed to be talking about you, not me. I was supposed to be helping  _ you _ .”

It was like Wilbur all over again. Like Tubbo. He saw these people go mental, he knew they were saying things not themselves.  And if he had managed to get through to Wilbur, he’d still be Wilbur, and not the massive dick he turned out to be. And when had Tubbo even changed? The Tubbo he knew wouldn’t abandon him. He wouldn’t send him away like a  _ traitor _ . He missed it completely, didn’t even get a chance to stop it.

“How do you think you were supposed to help me? I’m not going to be the person who leans on a child to handle my problems. It wouldn’t work, and more importantly nobody needs to grow up that fast. I shouldn’t have put  _ you  _ in that situation.”

“That’s not fair.” He sounded like a child now, a whining child. It was embarrassing, but like the tears burning and inevitably sliding down his cheeks and nose, he felt helpless to stop. Tommy wrapped his arms around his stomach and crouched forward so his forehead was on his knee. “That’s not fair. If we’re supposed to be responsible for ourselves, why did you think you had to be responsible for me, huh?”

“Again: child,” Techno replied mildly. “You’re not supposed to know how to be responsible yet. Your noggin hasn’t fully developed. And you don’t exactly have the best role model to go off. You shouldn’t be fighting in wars or sent alone to some remote island. That’s too much.”

The guilt that had been crushing down on him like an anvil sat heavy in his gut. What Techno said made sense, sure, but he couldn’t  _ really  _ know if it did when he wanted to believe it so badly. What if he just wanted it to make sense badly enough that he  _ let  _ it make sense? What if he was just doing it again, wiggling out of responsibility like always.

“Why are you saying this?” Tommy demanded, trying so hard to keep his voice from cracking. Trying to, for  _ one  _ moment, to not be so needy, so  _ selfish _ . And still, he was angry at Techno for trying to give him an out. When had Techno ever sugar-coated something to make it easier to hear? “Why? You don’t even like me.”

“Because it’s true.”

“I’m  _ sorry _ .”

“Tommy, there’s nothing to forgive. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Tommy’s crying redoubled, the spasm in his chest painful as he gripped his stomach. It’d be  _ easier  _ if Techno just blamed him. He hardly noticed when Techno stood and closed the distance between them. The only thing that penetrated was a broad, dangerous, gentle hand on his back, awkwardly rubbing in circles. It felt… good. It felt honest.

He didn’t stop crying for some time. It was like something heavy and sore in his chest was being lanced, and when his sobbing finally ran its natural course, petering out to tired, shallow sobs, the sobs turned into weak laughter.

“Eeh?” Techno mumbled.

“Can’t believe I have  _ the  _ Technoblade giving me a back rub.”

Above him, Tommy heard Techno snort in laughter. “I can  _ stop _ .”

For a panicked moment, Tommy was afraid he would, but Techno resumed shortly after getting an answer. The only sound was the ripple of wind outside, whistling through the pine needles and whipping up snow flurries from the new powder.

Tommy thought. In truth, as Techno said, he really didn’t have a good role model.

“Techno, what were you like when you were my age?”

“Ehh?” Techno leaned back in surprise, letting his hand drop. He sat back in his chair, hummed thoughtfully, and took a spoonful of his soup as if to stall. “Hmm. Angrier.”

“Than me or than you are now?”

“I’m not really an angry guy, Tommy. I’d say I’m downright zen.”

“You kill an awful lot of people for someone who found their zen, or opened their third inner peace or whatever.”

Techno sighed. “Everyone kills all the time. It’s a perfectly natural process. I killed the beef in my soup just yesterday, and I don’t hear you complaining about steak.”

“Yeah but, like, steak is made of cows, Techno. Not humans.”

Techno cocked his head. “And that matters why?”

“Because that’s… that’s different! Animals don’t think like us.”

“Mhm,” Techno hummed, and smiled at him with a mixture of grim and amusement. “And if I open that chest over there, I could pull out a porkchop, right?”

“Yeah.”

“And what are porkchops made of?”

“They’re made of-... oh. Oooh,” Tommy said, and shifted uncomfortably. “B-b-but no one would kill you to eat you, even if they could. You’re a- what’re they called- a piglin, right? Not a pig.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time it’s happened,” Techno said. He looked down at his food, and Tommy could see the lines of focus on his brow as he drew his spoon around in a slow, rhythmic circle.

“What, really? What happened?”

Techno looked suddenly doubtful. “I don’t know if it’s the time, Tommy.”

“Nooo, come on! You can’t just drop that and leave it there!”

Techno glanced up, but looked away with a thin, unhappy frown. “I already told you that I saw my parents torn apart. Do you think an emaciated urchin could rip apart an adult-sized humanoid with their bare hands? Tommy, they were already  _ cooked _ .”

Tommy stared. He realized too late that his jaw had dropped, and for the first time in his life, he was genuinely speechless.

When Tommy didn’t immediately respond, Techno continued haltingly, trying to fill the awkward silence. “I think the village we were trying to find shelter at was pretty remote, and having a hard winter. I remember it snowing. The villagers just saw a few strange-looking pigs making weird noises and thought ‘hey, we can use these things to feed our hungry children with no parents’.”

“What did you  _ do _ ?”

“There’s not much to do when the government doesn’t recognize you as a person. Y’see Tommy, they were  _ orphans _ . I was just a wild piglet… thing. What’d I do? Cry, probably. I don’t remember much from when I was that young. You’d have to ask Philza. After I ran off, he found me before I froze to death. He was… thirteen or fourteen at the time, so that would have made me three or four. I must have been a good enough kid that I didn’t put him off of them too much, because he adopted Wilbur after that and-”

Techno gestured to Tommy himself with a wane smile.

Tommy flopped back in his chair, staring out at the middle distance. “That’s… a lot to process. You never talked about any of this stuff before.”

“Mmm,” Techno hummed in agreement, and absently took another spoonful. “This is great soup.”

“That’s why you were always coming around. Philza is like your dad too.”

Techno shrugged while his mouth was still full and swallowed. “Something like that. He was still a kid too when he took me under his wing, so it’s not so cut and dry. You know how he is. He helped me through some things. He came with me when I said I wanted to fight for our home, to keep me out of trouble. I was just about your age now. That got a lot out of my system. Believe it or not, I used to be more destructive than I am now. And- and why are you looking at me like that?”

A wide, cheeky grin spread over Tommy’s face as Techno spoke. “You know what that makes us, Big T?”

Techno considered that for a moment, and then pinched the bridge of his nose with a harsh sigh. “Oh no-”

“Or should I say-”

“Please don-”

“ _ Big brother Technoblade. _ ”

“Is it too late to be eaten, too?” Techno mock-sighed, but Tommy could see his reluctant smile. Techno shook his head, but composed himself at last. “My point was, we already kill every other animal. I just kill one more species than most. People making a big deal out of it feels a little small-picture to me. But I used to be a lot more… a lot  _ less  _ in control of myself. I found out that I was much happier when I was practicing discipline, and had some self restraint.”

“Oof, I don’t want to imagine you when you really let yourself loose, then,” Tommy half-joked. In reality, the thought was terrifying. Techno was intimidating enough when he was being his normal (for Techno) self.

“You don’t want to be  _ around  _ me when I really let myself loose.”

The intensity of the warning caught Tommy off guard, felt like a sudden, unwarranted threat, but Techno remained seated and placid. “I’ll, uh…” Tommy said nervously. “I’ll make sure not to get on your bad side, then.”

“You won’t,” Techno said simply. “Even if it’s hard to have self control, and it can be  _ hard  _ to stay in control, it feels worse to lose it. Which is why I’ve been having a difficult time. These last few days.”

The words trailed quiet and hung in the air. Tommy shifted uncomfortably. “Well, you said Phil helped you chill out before? What’d he do? Can you do that?”

Techno stared at him, expression indecipherable, then a flash of something twisted tight like disdain, before he was stoney and passive once more. “I can’t talk to him now. He’s in L’Manberg, and I don’t know what Dream would do if he saw you. I need to stay close.”

“Saw me? Well I can stay here, obviously.”

Techno leaned away, looking skeptical. “I need to be here. I need to be here if Dream comes for you. You haven’t been the most reliable in remembering that Dream’s an ene-”

“I’ll  _ remember _ , now.”

Tommy surprised  _ himself  _ with his own certainty. But how  _ could  _ he forget? He  _ wished  _ he could forget.

Techno didn’t seem convinced. “How can you be sure?”

“You said you ‘fought for your country’ when you were my age?”

“The Antarctic Rebellion, yes. Pogtopia wasn’t my first rebel base. Probably won’t be my last.”

“I know that I’m young, ” Tommy began. His confidence faltered, but he looked up to see the drawn, guarded look on Techno’s face. Right. “But I’m not a kid. Or, er, I’m not  _ just  _ a kid. Maybe all the other stuff is right, but I have to be able to take care of myself at some point. I can’t just have you around forever with me on a child leash or some shite. If you could go to war for your government-”

“ _ Against _ the government,  _ for  _ the country, but continue.”

“Right, that. If you can do that, then I can handle you going back to L’Manberg for a few days. I need to do this,  _ please  _ Techno.”

Techno watched him with narrowed, scrutinizing eyes, as if sizing Tommy up, when he finally relented. “Fine. But stay within the closest copse of trees.  _ No  _ further. No need to tempt fate. Take a few stacks of ender pearls and a stack of gapples, but be ready to run. Armor  _ on  _ outside, no exceptions. Don’t stick around to talk or listen to anything he says.”

“Yes,  _ MotherInnit _ .”

“You take this seriously or I will hide you with Carl next.” Techno threatened, kicking Tommy’s boot lightly. He stood then and began gathering his things for the journey. “And, ah… maybe you can try to practice your bow while I’m away. Try shooting down that woodpecker that keeps waking me up, you get me?”

Right. The bird. Tommy sat in surprise, realizing that the noise had faded away in the background when he was actually talking to Techno. Right.

“Hey Techno?” Tommy asked, standing as Techno packed invisibility potions in the last pocket of his bag.

“Hn?”

“Thanks.”

Techno was drawn out of focusing on his preparations long enough to square himself to Tommy. He looked at him for a moment, sighed again, and reached up to leave the palm of his hand on Tommy’s head.

“You’re not just less angry than I was,” Techno said, “You’re braver, too.”

“Now that’s a lie.”

“It is a lie,” Techno conceded, and he gave Tommy a warm, proud smile. “But only because I was always  _ very  _ brave. I’ll be back.”

Tommy watched as Technoblade departed through the snow, cutting a dark bank towards the nether portal. When the whiteout of the snow almost made Techno invisible, Tommy cupped his hands and shouted after him. “You promise?!”

He could just barely hear the shout back.

“Promise!”

\--

_ Go back! _

_ Go back, quick! _

_ Dream’s going to take him. _

_ Kill Dream. _

_ Tommy’s going to leave. _

_ Tommy’s going to get lost, I just know it. _

_ Dream’s going to kill you. _

_ You’re going to get captured in L’Manberg, idiot. _

_ BLOOD. _

_ Go Back. _

_ Kill Tommy. _

No.

_ Protect Tommy. _

_ BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD. _

God, he was so weak. He was so weak and exhausted. He shouldn’t be going. This was a terrible idea. The Voices weren’t always right, but when they  _ were  _ right…

Well, they were  _ right _ .

But he had tried. Really, he did. He did. He tried so hard to do what was right, to stay with Tommy.

Techno stopped in the middle of the Nether, the heat of its popping lava like an old, familiar hug. Sweat was making his hair lank and stringy. He was born here, probably. And what if he just  _ stayed _ ? It felt so nice to be warm for a change.

He tried to do the right thing, to stay, keep it together, remain vigilant, but Tommy’s prying had reminded him of old things that he used to have. Reminded him of sparring in the summer thaw, and having someone awake and watching while he finally napped for the first time in days. How Phil had always just made things easier.

_ BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD. _

_ Tommy must hate you. _

_ Save Phil. _

_ BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD. _

Techno screwed up his eyes and shook his head, as if he could throw out the Voices if he shook hard enough. He should have stayed, but he was selfish. He should have stayed, but he was undisciplined. He should have stayed with Tommy, kept him out of harm, instead of going on a stupid, dangerous mission to, what? Go crawling back to Papa Phil like a toddler with a nightmare? Curl up on his chest to sleep like a child and drool on his shirt?

A clear, level part of himself, the part that wasn’t the voices or the piglin, but pure person, more human than he had a right to be,  _ that  _ part stepped in.

He shouldn’t stay, because he’s barely staying in control.

Running across the netherrack, Techno wondered if humans ever had the urge to set themselves on fire just to burn as much as they could find. To raze and salt and burn and hurt. Was that everyone? The Voices? Piglin? Just him?

_ BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD _

_ Jump into the lava. It’ll be funny. _

_ Technoblade never dies! _

Probably just him. Anger like a dormant curse stirred, churned, chafed against his mind. It tantrumed like it did when he was young, with  _ why can I just _ s and  _ how dare they _ s.

_ Creeper behind you. _

“Eeh?”

Techno looked, which was stupid. Of course there was no creeper. He was too off his game if he was listening to their suggestions like that. Their chorus of laughter grated on him, and he was getting a headache by the time he reached the far portal.

  
_ Don’t forget the potion. _

_ Potion! _

_ Potion. _

_ The potion! _

Techno pulled out an invisibility potion and downed it before stepping through. When they were right, they were right.

L’Manberg was cooler than the Nether, but much warmer than his cottage. He could hear water and crickets, and someone listening to a disc somewhere in the distance. His anger boiled tight in his chest, furious and hot and red.

It was so peaceful here. So calm. Brightly lit with the torchlight. They had peace like a plentiful resource, like a jungle village had wood. There was no need for bureaucracy, the kind that only ever served to tamp down or cast out aberrations like him. Everyone here was capable. There was no reason, other than to other.

_ The anvil! _

_ Look familiar? _

_ Anvil. _

_ Ha, the anvil! _

_ Hm, deja vu. _

Techno paused. They still had the anvil where his failed execution had been. He crept up on it and saw how bits of blood and brain matter left a crusty glaze over one corner, interrupting the smooth reflection of the moon on its flat side.

_ Techno wasn’t afraid of pain, but he didn’t like it. He wasn’t truly afraid of death, because it never really seemed like a possibility. He’s gotten so close so many times that, what, a skeleton’s arrow was going to be the thing to take him down? A bad fall? Quackity’s sword? He wasn’t going to die to  _ Quackity _. _

_ But this had been the closest. He knew it was a matter of enduring it. He hated pain, but he had never felt the touch of death before. The fear of it was worse. It dropped, and the pain was only a moment, only a snap of the fingers before darkness. And suddenly he was here again, shards of his skull folding back over his wound and his scalp knitting back up. _

That had hurt, but like a healing potion, it abated quickly. The endorphins outsped the agony.

Death was a brief pain, but becoming alive again felt  _ exhilarating _ .

But Phil would be mad at him if he made a habit of it. Too many things could go wrong. It wasn’t worth it, even if it felt good. And even if Techno wanted to feel good.

_ But you could. _

_ You could! _

_ You deserve it. _

_ Yeah but then don’t come back. _

_ You don’t deserve to feel good. _

_ Eeeh _

_ Phil would be piiissed. _

_ Phil! _

_ TECHNOBLADE NEVER DIES. _

_ Go to Phil! _

When they were right, they were right.

Technoblade shook himself out of his stupor and climbed the stairs to Phil’s home. He craned his head, scanning the town square to make sure there was no one there and watching, even if he was invisible.

_ Dream could be. _

_ Coast is clear. _

_ You’re good! _

_ RANBOO! _

_ That’s not Ranboo. _

_ DREEEAM. _

_ They’re not here. _

They weren’t here. Techno cracked the door open and slipped inside, closing it behind him with a click. Philza was sprawled on the bed in the corner, stretched out on his back and tangled in the blanket like he always was.

_ Phil! _

_ It’s Phil! _

_ Philzaaa. _

_ Don’t wake him. _

_ Wake up! _

_ PHIL! _

_ Don’t, he’s sleeping. _

_ Leave. _

_ Kill him. _

No.

_ Yeah, kill him! _

_ BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD. _

_ Wake him up! _

Techno took a step forward, but stopped.

He was acting like a child.

No, he was acting like a sad little  _ orphan _ , pathetic little thing that had to take from others, crawling to parents that weren’t his own for sucor. Just taking and screaming and crying and being needy and selfish and  _ dependent _ .

_ Go back home. _

_ Let him sleep! _

_ Take his stuff. _

_ Wake him up. _

_ Yeah, wake him up. _

_ Needy baby’s going to wake him uuup. _

_ You can’t go back. You’re going to ruin Tommy. _

_ You’ll kill Tommy. _

_ Push him off a cliff. _

_ Eeeh. _

_ Let him sleep. _

_ Just do it. You already came this far, _ Techno thought. It strained to be heard under the weight of the Voices. He stood in the middle of Phil’s bedroom, raking his nails through his hair in long, soothing strokes. His potion wore off then while he debated on what to do.

It was so familiar. He had done this tens,  _ hundreds  _ of times. But he hadn’t for years.

What would Phil want him to do?

He knew that one.

“Phil,” Techno whispered. He crept closer, pushing the shame back far enough to speak, but not so far that he could more than the barest whisper. “Phil, are you… can you…”

Phil hummed, grumbled, and then jumped, presumably when he realized there was a person in his house. Techno was only backlit by the light outside, and Phil reflexively went for the sword under his pillow.

“It’s me!” Techno whispered urgently.

“Techno?” He asked. He still sounded groggy and half asleep, voice rough and ragged. “That you? What’s going on?”

“It’s bad.” And suddenly he was a child again. The old, sideways approach to the voices, in frightened whisper and unnamed reference, came back to him like a flood. His stomach had been roiling and his muscles clenched for days, but this was the first time he really felt the crush of pressure on his body. Standing there, head bowed in embarrassment, begging wordlessly for it to be made better. “It’s real bad, Phil. I wouldn’t have come otherwise, you know I wouldn’t have risked it, I-”

“Mmm, come on, Truffles. In you go.”

Techno’s heart clenched at the old nickname. 

_ (“Aww, come on Truffles. It’s okay. It’s okay. It was just a bad dream.” _

_ “It was  _ so scary _.” _

_ “I know. It’s okay.” _

_ “They were chasing me!”) _

Philza sat up, rubbing the sleep in his eye, and held the blanket up for Techno to take his place. Techno shuffled forward equal parts bashful and relieved, mortified and grateful. He couldn’t even open his mouth to speak.

Phil folded the blanket over him and stifled a yawn. “Is this touch-time or no-touch-time?”

“No, please.” Techno fought against the urge to duck his head under the blanket in shame, because despite how he was acting, he wasn’t fucking  _ five _ .

“You want the hat?”

Techno considered it. He almost said no. “...Yeah.”

Phil hummed in acknowledgement and stood. The old green and white striped hat was hanging from an old, unlit torch by the door, and Phil took it off and tossed it onto the bed with Techno, who quickly took it and brought it to his face.

Techno had never liked touch, at least not since he could remember, but Philza had found this part out early. They guessed it was a piglin thing, the comfort of familiar smells. This very hat still had a few worn threads from when Techno had worried at it with his tusks, but he hadn’t had as many nightmares after they stopped growing in. He had chewed through others before, but the fabric on this one had been tough.

Techno turned so he could curl against the wall, hiding while he nudged his nose into the cap. It scented like how a hug felt. Techno breathed in deeply.

“You want the special?” Phil asked behind him.

He still felt guilty, but not nearly as much, because Techno thought that sounded  _ amazing _ . “If it’s not too much trouble. Thank you.”

Philza chuckled softly, and Techno could hear the sound of the larder chest being opened. Techno let his thoughts drift as he breathed in the scent like budging up next to Phil. It was another piglin thing, the comfort food. Phil had always said that if he was Techno’s dad, their cold larder was his mom with how a good meal helped him feel better.

Maybe it was a piglin thing, or maybe it was just a Techno thing. They didn’t really know any more of his kind.

Phil kept the furnace open while he cooked a potato in it, and the rhythmic chop of his knife made Techno’s eyes droop.

He hadn’t slept much in days, and breathing in loosened up the belts of anxiety that had been constricting around his chest. The voices tried to speak, but he took another deep breath and exhaled out a mass of fear.

“Order up! One Techno tater tot, hot from the oven.”

“Thanks.”

Techno turned back around as Phil offered him a plate. It was a poor man’s dish, a staple back before they had made their fortune hunting and farming on their first semi-permanent farmstead. The first thing Techno bought after they sold their crop yield was a new cloak, but Phil had bought ingredients for a cake, and they agreed on cows for milk and steak.

Techno, however, remained more than content to eat the baked potato that Phil made for him. One gold and fluffy potato, stuffed with chunks of carrots and small slivers of beetroot like they were a substitute for bacon, even if they stained the root of his tusks pink for days. 

He scarfed the meal down. It was nice to have a meal he didn’t have to kill, dress, prepare and cook himself. It was so much easier, such a relief. And it felt warm and filling and comforting, radiating the feeling of safety from the inside out. He was so tired, so sore and sleepy, and it hit him in one moment like a wall.

He was safe, and ready to be exhausted. He could be, here. He didn’t bother wiping away the silent, rolling tears that blurred everything. Phil just hummed and worked at the counter, only coming back to him when Techno’s second and his first potato was done.

“Thank you.”

Phil shrugged peaceably. “That’s got to be the third time you’ve thanked me for that.”

“Yeah, well…”

He didn’t have anything more to say. Well, he did. He had the urge to thank him again, but at this point it was probably more annoying than polite. Techno knew that Phil would be waiting for him to explain what had happened, that Phil wouldn’t go back to be until he did, and another pulse of guilt shot through him. It was more distant this time, though, and easier to dismiss when a reminder of how Phil was warming his belly.

Phil would want him to stay. Phil would be happy to wait.

“I’m just grateful.”

“I know,” Phil smiled.

Techno would tell him, because this ritual had been done countless times before. Every time, it felt like the world was ending if he said what was on his mind. Every time it didn’t, and Phil listened, and the burden got a little lighter.

But for now, they ate in silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I continue this an update might take more time. I have a plan for another chapter, but nothing concrete for a plot after that. I'm open to suggestions to work off. It's also a lot more C in the H/C, and H is more my wheelhouse.
> 
> I'm also 5 pages in to another story that's more of a Dead Dove, so there's more in the wings.


	4. Feet of Clay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil always knows what to do. And Techno needs to be told what to do.
> 
> Ghostbur makes a new, old friend! :)

It was always easy to talk to Phil.

At least, it was as soon as you started talking. Techno had historically been bad at that part. Phil told him once that it was a full year after they first met before Phil found out that Techno wasn’t entirely mute. Techno didn’t remember much from that time, so he took Phil’s word on it. And it did sound like him.

Talking was hard.

He hadn’t made many friends easily when he fought in the Antarctic Rebellion for that reason. Certainly, the people stationed with him and assigned to patrol the frigid borders of their reclaimed land respected him, maybe even liked him, but only after the first skirmish they shared, and after seeing how quickly and efficiently he dispatched their mutual enemies.

Phil always said that he was ‘intimidating’, and Techno had always been of the mind that you should play to your strengths. He never  _ felt  _ intimidating, but after a time he learned the right signs and actions, and could turn it on like a switch. He knew he  _ was  _ terrifying, intellectually. But like most of the finer details of other people, that knowledge was broken down, made into a checklist, and the abstract turned itemized.

Stand straight. Angle his head like so. Narrow his eyes this much. Raise his weapon so high. Let them hear you breathing.

Watch them scatter.

Ignore the Voices demanding the pursuit.

It was  _ hard  _ to read humans. Their faces were long and scrunched and stretched like a caricature when they emoted. When Phil had first brought him to the Nether and they had met their first piglin since Techno last saw his parents, it answered so many questions that he hadn’t known to ask. Their faces were subtle, their rough language nuanced even for the scant bit Techno could understand. More so than the words, the faces were like a mother tongue he didn’t know he knew. But he was fluent. In many ways, he felt like he understood the hearts and minds of those few gold traders more in the few hours they spent together than some of the comrades he had fought alongside for days.

They were like him.

It stung to know that this was how normal people saw each other, and understood one another by sight and tone. It wasn’t a carefully curated and precariously faulty personal dictionary of tells enumerating signals that could combine to form entirely different meanings, or lose context from one person to another. It stung to remember he wasn’t made to be with people.

But that never stopped him, and it didn’t stop Phil. Phil, in his infinite patience, was one of the precious few who had stuck around long enough for Techno to really understand him. Others did, but then others also died. And it was such an ordeal to learn to understand an entirely new person, so Techno endeavored to only bother with people he didn’t expect to die long before he did. And if that philosophy resulted in a rather lonely existence, then, well… that was just something he had to bear, wasn’t it?

But Phil stayed. And he could always go to Phil when he didn’t understand. Phil would deflect for him when he needed, push him when he didn’t, and would always, always know how to navigate the frequently mystifying arena known as ‘social interaction’. Phil knew what to do, which is why Phil had also heard him say a hundred times before what Techno would likely say a hundred times again.

“I didn’t know what to do.”

The words were old as his memory, but they never cracked like they did coming out of his mouth that night.

Sure, he had cried them before when he was small, perhaps after the villager’s kids threw rocks at him and he ended up getting them chased out of the mountainside by the iron golem after he was finally fed up and threw one back. He screamed them at a snowswept outpost, when the Voices were so loud, and the captive soldiers’ hands so blood soaked in their crimes that Techno felt on fire with the need to tear them apart. He even laughed them when an adventurous and open-minded shield-maiden bought him a drink. He was so flustered and confused that he ended up hiding in the tavern’s barn to escape, and Phil acted like he was crazy when he finally fished Techno out of a hay pile.

_ “I didn’t know what to do!” he had said, tittering into his hand, tipsy, while Phil picked hay out of his hair. _

_ “You didn’t have to do anything! She was falling into your lap, man.” Phil had shook his head. “I have half a mind to go drag her out here.” _

_ “Bruuuh.” _

_ “I won’t. But seriously, this is how many times? Is it because she’s a woman?” _

_ “It’s because she’s a  _ human _.” _

_ “So if she were a piglin-” _

_ “I’m not…” he struggled for the words, and Phil had been patient. “I’m not really that  _ either _. I don’t know what I am. I don’t know who I’d need. Not her, though.” _

_ Phil had just snorted at him. “If you ever do actually die, you are going to die a virgin.” _

Well, Phil wasn’t always right, was he?

The thought made him laugh, and the shaking of his shoulders was hard enough to disrupt the careful wall of tears glassing over his eyes.

“You… were right. I should have gotten more experience when we were in Antarctica. Hah- of course. Of course. The first time is never good. Nobody knows what they’re doing the first time.”

Phil sat quietly, waiting for Techno to explain himself, and when he didn’t, Phil prompted, “First time for what, Techno?”

“He-”

Talking to Phil was easy once you got started, but the getting started was never easy at all.

Because Phil was so good. So patient and giving, and the only one Techno knew that he could rely on to sit and listen to what he said if asked. And not only that, but he would  _ always  _ listen. And when he couldn’t, he would tell Techno why and tell Techno  _ soon _ . And then soon would come, and Phil was there, patient and attentive and so unbearably accommodating it made Techno feel miserable sometimes.

Phil cared, and Techno knew his caring would make this hurt.

“I’ve been letting Tommy stay with me,” he began shakily. Might as well give the full context, and maybe he wanted to avoid it as long as possible. “Exile wasn’t good for him. He wasn’t- heh- he wasn’t exactly subtle, but when Dream came and asked if I’ve seen him, I lied.”

Phil hummed acknowledgment, but remained otherwise silent. He sat leaning forward, set at rapt attention.

“He found out that I lied and didn’t… didn’t like that. H-he said that the others that brought me in to be executed knew where he went, and would get to Tommy and you if I didn’t, ah…” His throat was so tight. His chest felt like a fist was grabbing at his heart and squeezing, and it was hard to breath. “He wanted me to do what he said. He had me strip, and- I didn’t- I didn’t know what to do, Phil. I didn’t know- I didn’t want him to hurt you, either of you. He had me get on my back, and it didn’t even hurt. It didn’t even hurt. It was slow, and felt… and I haven't been able to stop thinking about it. I can’t stop seeing it.”

His throat closed entirely, and it took a great deal of force for him to swallow down and take another breath. And then it wasn’t enough. He tried to suck down air, but his lungs were already full. He couldn’t stop seeing it through his swimming vision, and he knew there was a hand on his shoulder, holding him upright with as minimal contact as possible.

“Shhh, shsh,” Phil crooned, ducking to the side and grabbing a pail of drinking water quickly. He offered it to Techno, who drank deep and greedily, and the rhythm of his swallowing seemed to remind his body the tempo of his own breath. After he drank half of it, Techno could breathe more evenly, even if each breath was jagged and raw. “Take your time. It’s alright.”

“I thought it would just get easier,” Techno continued rapidly. He did, and if he had just thought about that for a moment he would have known that was wishful thinking. He would have known that’s not how it would play out, but he’s been moving around like lines in a book. Simple and surface and without the contradictory questions that rattled around his brain at any given time. He felt like he hadn’t woken up all the way in days. Even the Voices were quieter, less constant. He just… floated. “I thought it would be like how it was after a bad fight. I thought- It was bad, but I can’t just… put it away. It’s not like Antarctica, Phil. I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t know how to get better. I can’t stop seeing it, but I can’t even think about it.”

Phil planted his elbows on his knees and offered his palms face up. “It’s okay that you don’t know. You’re not doing anything wrong.”

“Then what do I need to  _ do _ ?” Techno demanded. He reached forward and grounded himself on Phil at the offer. While Phil’s fingers curved loosely under Techno’s forearm, pointedly passive, Techno’s clawed fingers encircled Phil’s wrist as he held on tight.

“Breathe with me, for a start.”

And Phil took a deep, audible breath, exaggerating how his chest expanded to encourage Techno to mimic him. Techno distantly felt his tears cold on the heat of his cheeks, ashamed at his dependency. He could taste the Antarctic air at the back of his throat when he began to copy, vividly reminded of the times in the snow where a blood haze had made his vision unfocus and the only thing between him and a terrible, yawning surrender to the shriek of the Voices was Phil’s point of contact. And now, like before, the air was pulled down, pushed out, and Phil murmured old, soothing reminders to focus on the tangible.

The cool air over his tongue, down his throat, the stretch of his muscles around his ribs as they rose and fell. The lingering taste of starch and carrots and the scent of domestic comfort. Cooked food and clean sheets.

Dream’s tongue couldn’t be in his throat while he still felt the cool air passing through him. He couldn’t be over him, body a cage, if Techno could smell dinner instead of sweat and the sugary tang of healing potion. He was here. With Phil. Phil’s hands, carefully neutral, warm against the pads of his fingers.

“I’m so sorry,” Phil said at last. His voice was quiet, barely audible over the crickets singing out the window. “I’m so sorry, Techno. You didn’t do anything wrong. You didn’t then, and you’re doing everything okay now.”

“I didn’t- Tommy  _ heard _ . I couldn’t protect him, Phil. Not all the way. He shouldn’t- he’s just a  _ kid _ . Nobody should have to grow up that fast, nobody.”

“You did your best,” Phil assured him. “Dream didn’t touch him?”

Techno shook his head, afraid if he spoke he’d work himself up again.

“You did that, Techno. You kept that from happening. Nobody should have to grow up that fast, but we know it doesn’t work like that. Sometimes it happens. And  _ you  _ aren’t that old yourself. You did your best.”

Techno swallowed, and finally nodded his head. It still felt wrong, he still felt like he was grasping to the absolution for his own sake, but he could trust Phil. Phil would tell him if he was out of line, if he failed. Phil knew.

“How do I do this without you?” Techno asked, voice cracking. “I’ve tried this, I’ve tried it without you. I can’t sleep. I can’t eat. I wouldn’t be able to hit a ghast if it was sitting next to me right now, everything’s so… look. My hands haven’t stopped this since this morning.”

Techno released where he gripped Phil for just a moment, lifting his hands to show how they trembled like a leaf in the wind. He clenched his fist and grit his teeth, a wave of impotent rage washing over him. “I can’t protect him like this, but I can’t bring you back to the cottage.”

“Why not?”

Techno paused. Thought. Looked up. “But… you’re in house arrest.”

“Like that was going to stop you before this. Come on, I know you. Tell me with a straight face you haven’t put ‘Free Phil’ down on one of your checklists.”

Techno ducked his head. “I can’t expect you to be there and do everything for me forever. You have your own life to live.”

“Nah, not forever, no,” Phil agreed peacefully. “But I can do this for you now. And I want to. I’ve wanted to since I saw you being executed. Techno, you’re my best friend and I saw an anvil crush your skull open. I’m allowed to want to take care of you for a while. Let me.”

Techno hesitated, and as soon as he did he knew he would give in. It was the exact same with Tommy. It didn’t matter if it was right or not- that could be debated. What mattered was the wall of magnetism the idea had. Techno wanted to give in. He wanted Phil to help with the same whole-bodied, disinhibited shamelessness of a small child wanting their mother.

He felt like a child when he relented. Small and tired and not enough energy to have a fight left in him. Techno just gave a weary sigh, nodded, and surrendered.

“Okay.”

\--

“Hey, you’re Wilbur, right?”

Ghostbur looked up from his cornflower patch. “Uhh,n-no! I’m Ghostbur. I  _ used  _ to be Wilbur. I’m sorry, though. I don’t remember you?”

“Apologies! Ghostbur. And that’s fine, Tubbo said you probably wouldn’t,” the stranger said. He smiled, broad and friendly. “Do you want help picking your flowers?”

“Oh! Oh… that would be… that’d be nice!” Ghostbur nestled into the flowers, beaming back at his new (old?) friend.

The young man sat beside him and carefully began to pull at the stems, breaking them at the root and dropping them in Ghostbur’s basket. “So, are these for blue dye?”

“Yup! Every time I shear Friend, he needs to be re-dyed. Do you know Friend? I met him after I died, so probably not.”

“No,” the new/old friend said, but his cheerful beaming didn’t falter at all. “He sounds very nice, though! Why don’t you tell me about him?”

Ghostbur wiggled in delight, momentarily forgetting his flower-picking while he regaled the other of his adventure to Techno’s cottage and meeting Friend. Ghostbur was thrilled that whoever he was in his past life had befriended such a good listener, because the old/new friend sat in rapt attention. He continued to pick flowers even as he asked what happened next, and gasped when there was a twist, and when Ghostbur was feeling confident enough to tell a joke, the young man laughed raucously.

“Oh Ghostbur, I missed you!” he said between his laughter, wiping a tear of mirth from the corner of his eyes. “You were always the best at stories.”

Ghostbur felt a twinge of guilt at that. “You know, I bet Wilbur would miss you, too. I’m not him, but I’m sure I would miss you If I could remember. Sorry! But that just means we can make lots of good memories together and then I can miss you too! And- oh wow, you did that fast!” He looked down at the basket of cornflowers, now as full as their flower patch was empty. “Did you really get them all? That’s amazing!”

The young man just smiled. “I’m pretty fast. That’s why Tubbo sent me out. I have an urgent message to send to TommyInnit. The problem is, no one knows where he is! Isn’t that just terrible? Even being so fast, I bet it’ll take me all day to find him.”

“Oh,” Ghostbur began, floating slowly up from the grass. “Oh, I- I might be able to help! You can tell me, and I can tell it to him! He’d want to hear from Tubbo. They’re best friends, you know!”

“Golly, that’d be nice. It’s just, I promised Tubbo that I’d tell him myself directly. That’s really nice of you to offer, though. And I’d like to stay around and help you make your dye, and maybe even listen to more of your great stories! It’s just, I have to be going if I’m going to find Tommy in time.”

Oh. Ghostbur drifted, disappointed.

But then- “Oh! Oh, what if I brought you to where he was staying! That way you can tell him and we’ll have time to make dye and you can come visit and meet Friend! He’ll like you, I know he will.”

The young man’s eyes lit up, clearly delighted. “Wow! You’d do that for me? Really? Oh Ghostbur, you were always the best. Just show me to him, and I can meet you back here after.”

Ghostbur was delighted. He nearly skipped over the ground as he glided, taking the most direct route to Technoblade’s cottage. “Of course. Anytime- uh. Anytime… sorry. I didn’t get your name?”

“Oh, haha! It’s Clay.”

“Anytime, Clay!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am plugging away at this, Abattoir, another yet-posted Techno-centric story and lots of fanart, so don't be discouraged by slower updates! They are still coming.
> 
> Also this was mostly written before the stream today, and LET ME TELL YOU. "I'M A PERSON!" JUST HITS DIFFERENT WITH THESE HEADCANONS, Y'ALL.


	5. A Sinking Feeling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy gets some mixed news.
> 
> Phil mediates.
> 
> Techno's going to develop an ulcer.

_ Thwish _

_ Thwip _

_ Thunk. _

_ Tktktktktk. _

Tommy groaned as he nocked another arrow against his thigh. The bird should have been a mockingbird, because the little bastard was  _ mocking  _ him. He drew the string again, lined up the arrow (arm straight, both eyes open, make a line from arrowhead to elbow, just like Techno said). When the arrow flew, it clattered against the bark just a meter below where the bird perched, knocking the arrow that he had planted there before down so they both fell into the bushes.

_ Tktktktktk _ .

He stormed over to retrieve them when a resonant voice made him jump.

“There he is! Tommy!” Ghostbur cheerfully waved at him. He was walking (well, floating) with a stranger who mirrored Ghostbur’s chipper smile perfectly, so much so that for a moment Tommy thought he must have been another ghost. He had never seen that kind of vacant pleasantness in anyone while they were alive. Did all ghosts know each other? Was that ghost-ist? 

The stranger called out to him, too. “Tommy! Hi!”

Tommy dropped his bow and rubbed his biceps absently, trying to warm away the goosebumps. He had been staring at that bird so long he hadn’t even noticed it getting so cold, but he was at once shivering.

“He’s new. Who’s that, then?” he asked, and thrust his chin out to gesture to the newcomer. He wasn’t a ghost, now that he was up close. He wasn’t the least bit see-through, and though it was hard to tell while his feet were obscured, he walked instead of floated.

“I’m a friend of Tubbo’s! I’ve been looking for you everywhere, but thankfully Ghostbur here found me and he just so happened to know where I could find you. I have a message from Tubbo that he wanted me to give you!”

Ghostbur floated diagonally behind the new guy, beaming his approval. “This is Clay! Like the block, yeah? He’s a real good’un, Tommy, even if he is American. He’s the first person I’ve met that doesn’t need any blue at all.”

“A friend of Tubbo’s…” Tommy murmured. He felt a glimmer of hope before he came to his senses, stomped down the impulse, and crossed his arms. “Well you can tell Tubbo I don’t have anything left to say to him. Sod off.”

“You’re going to want to hear this,” Clay promised.

“Doubt it.”

“Oh, but I’m  _ super  _ sure you’re going to want to hear this! I’m not supposed to say in front of Ghostbur, because it’s a message  _ just  _ for you. And then I can deliver one back!”

He didn’t care what Tubbo had to say for himself. He didn’t. But sending a message back to Tubbo? He had plenty that he wanted to get off his chest. He just hoped BadBoyHalo wasn’t around to hear it when it was relayed. “Fine. But make it quick; my  _ new  _ best friend is coming back any minute and trespassers will be shot! With prejudice!”

Ghostbur drifted past again and waved at Clay. “I’ll meet you back at L’Manberg then.”

“I’ll bring more cornflowers,” Clay promised, waving back as Ghostbur slid out of existence. Then, he turned to Tommy, and his absent expression sharpened into something mischievous. “Whew, finally! Okay, so here’s the rundown: Tubbo wants you back.”

Tommy jolted. “What?”

“Yeah! What, you think he wanted to exile you? You kind of forced his hand there,” Clay laughed. “Dream was really breathing down his neck, and you know how much the rest of the town hates you.”

“Wh-wha- why is he telling me this just now?”

He knew he should be happy, but he just felt numb. Shocked, really, at the vindication. The buried hope stirred up in him, too wounded and suspicious to come to the surface.

Clay shrugged, gesturing wide with his hands. “Uh,  _ duh _ . He needed someone he could trust. He couldn’t tell you himself, since he couldn’t get close to you without Dream throwing a hissy fit, and nobody in the town wants you around. Tubbo was alone. But then I came along, and since I have no reason to hate you, he asked me to do it. In exchange, I can stay in L’Manberg, which I can already tell is the greatest country on this server.”

The initial disbelief was slowly fading to excitement. That… that made sense. Of course! Of course Tubbo wanted him back. Of course Dream was keeping Tubbo from him. He  _ knew  _ it. That was the only explanation. Tubbo wanted him back. He just couldn’t show it. “O-okay! Wow, okay, I’ll get my stuff, and-”

“Oh, hold on,” Clay said, and held up his palm. Tommy felt his heart sink. “I said he  _ wants  _ you back, not that you can  _ come  _ back. Dream’s still watching over the town. Who knows what he’ll do to you or Tubbo if you come back before he’s taken care of? I’m sure you heard what happened to  _ Technoblade _ , didn’t you?”

“Wh-” Tommy began. The entirety of the meaning hit him. “You know about-... Technoblade?”

“Oh, Tommy. Everyone knows about Technoblade. Dream told us right after he did it. Tubbo told me privately that he was upset, but everyone else? They said ‘Oh, that Technoblade! That Technoblade deserves it! Look at what he did to our city with his withers!’ and had a good laugh about it. Sickening, innit?”

It was. Tommy felt suddenly ill. “But… no. No! They wouldn’t-... n-... not-...”

Not… well. Well. Three of them came out here just to execute him, and after he said he was going to be peaceful, if Techno was to be believed. And… and he was, Tommy decided. But. But that didn’t mean that nobody would care. Techno wasn’t popular, sure. He didn’t have friends left in L’Manberg, but… but…

They did throw Tommy out without a care, didn’t they?

“So what do we do?” he asked. The rollercoaster of emotions had him feeling untethered and confused.

“Well, when Tubbo heard about Techno, he thought maybe he could get Techno on our side. You know, fight against Dream, with us! Tubbo can’t win by himself, but if you convinced Techno to fight with us, and Philza came because of Techno, well I think we’d stand a pretty good chance!” Clay grinned. “All you have to do is convince Techno to fight against Dream instead of running away.”

Tommy bristled. “That’s gonna be easy because Techno wouldn’t run away.”

“Hey, don’t be mad! It’s just… Dream told us how scared Techno was of him, now.”

“He’s not scared! He’s probably planning on how to fight Dream already. He’s talking to Philza about it right now, and when they get back we’ll probably already have a battle plan.”

“I’m just saying what Dream said,” Clay reassured, and held his hands up placatingly. “And I wouldn’t blame him. But, if it turns out he was planning on running away, convincing him to stay might be a delicate process. Maybe don’t mention me or Tubbo until you know for sure. Don’t want to scare him off, y’know?”

“I-” Tommy paused. It felt… it felt wrong to keep their plan under wraps. But then, Techno wouldn’t run away. No matter what Dream did, Techno’s not afraid of anything. So it wouldn’t matter, because it’s not going to come up. But  _ still _ . “I don’t know…”

“Well, think about it. Oh! But before I go, I almost forgot! Tubbo asked me to give you this, from him!”

Tommy was expecting food, or maybe a potion. The idea that it was the disc crossed his mind. Instead, he got something better than even that.

Clay wrapped his arms around Tommy’s chest and gave him a tight hug.

“He can’t wait to have you back. He misses you so much, you know.”

And just like that, it was over, and soon Clay was gone back amongst the forest’s underbrush, and Tommy stood there, rooted to the spot until a dusting of snow gathered on his shoulder and helmet, and the few stray tears had frozen to his cheeks.

\--

Philza Minecraft was a patient man.

He had been called a “steady presence” on more than one occasion. Several times in one conversation, actually, when they were back at the Antarctic Rebellion, after the upper echelon of the resistance tried to assign Techno and him to different tasks.

He figured it was one reason why wayward children showed up to steal from his larder so frequently. He supposed most people would chase off a stranger stealing their property, even if that stranger was a pitiful waif, and that property was some stale bread and a barely-moldy potato. Really, it’s possible that people have the opportunity to adopt children all the time, and he was just the only sap that followed through.

He used to wonder if he was doing the right thing, or if it was only for his vanity. And it was vain, at least after the first time. After Techno, Phil then knew how proud he could be of the family he chose. Not to mention that in just a few short years, Techno’s presence had honed his attention and had him settle down and grow into the level-headed father-figure he was now. It was simply easier to support more family.

That’s what Techno was, really. Even if he denied it, preferring the title of ‘best friend’. To be fair, piglin matured quickly, and Techno was nearly of an equivalent age to Phil in piglin years by the time they joined the cause. He might have been a father to Techno once, but it would be generous now to even call Phil a much older brother. Even if Techno rejected the familial label, Phil couldn’t be more proud of him.

(And besides, Techno’s only other touchstone for family was  _ barbeque _ , so Phil could understand why Techno might not want to associate that with Phil.)

Phil loved his family terribly, so his penchant for snapping up doe-eyed orphans sometimes felt selfish.

But then, then something would happen. A nightmare, a broken bone, a failure or frustration, and Phil’s devotion would circle back around itself. It would grow so selfish that it became something pure. He wouldn’t forget the first time Technoblade-  _ Truffles-  _ had dithered, backlit, in his doorway, fighting the urge to seek comfort until Phil beckoned him over and held him while he cried and cried. The realization hit when he looked down at a sleeping Techno, small hand curled in Phil’s shirt, tucked under one floppy ear, and it was calm and warm, a steady presence.

_ I would die for this kid. _

Technoblade, seasoned warrior and wanted criminal, shuffling awkwardly in his house now, years later, was familiar. The more things changed, the more they stayed the same.

Philza was glad he was a patient man. Were he not, he couldn’t finish his meal with Techno, wait for him to cleave off his ankle monitor, and take one of his invisibility potions to accompany him to the nether portal and out to Techno’s cabin. No, if he weren’t he’d march straight outside and start yelling at the sky until Dream descended from on high and he could beat the everloving shit out of him until he lost however many lives he had remaining.

But he was a patient man. It wouldn’t help Techno right now to do it, and besides, that kill wasn’t his to make. It wasn’t about him.

For now, he would have to be content with following behind Techno on the precarious netherrack bridge that connected the L’Manberg to the cottage’s portal. Phil didn’t like the way Techno was shaky on his feet and endeavored to stay close enough that he could snatch him before he could fall. Techno was usually so much more lively in the Nether, invigorated by the heat and bounding on the narrow cliff sides as if the lava below was nothing more than water.

“We need to move,” Techno mentioned offhandedly. “We can’t stay in the cottage. We should scout out a new location. I was thinking on the other side of L’Manberg to throw him off the scent.”

“Do you think he’d come back?”

“Not right away, but-”

“Then that sounds like a later problem.”

Techno looked over his shoulder, mouth quirked to the side in a mild annoyance. “I can’t do anything while Dream has easy access to you and Tommy.”

“You won’t be doing anything right now anyway. What you want is to have something to do to keep your mind busy. What you  _ need  _ is sleep. Working until you collapse may make you feel better in the short term, but if you do want to eventually go after Dream then showing up so fatigued you can’t even walk straight-” Phil pushed Techno’s shoulder, and Techno had to stagger a few paces before regaining his balance, “-is a great way to get yourself killed. One day you’re going to have to learn to pace yourself.”

“But that day is not this day,” Techno replied. His voice was flat from exhaustion even for Techno. “I don’t think he’ll come back, but I do think he’ll be monitoring the cabin until he does. He doesn’t want us sneaking off where he can’t find us. Specifically you and Tommy.”

“We could stay at camp while you scout out and build a temporary vault for us. He’d keep his eyes on us over you if we’re his leverage.”

Techno nodded once and stepped up into the violet sheet of the far Nether portal. Phil followed him, bracing for the strange sideway squeeze that trans-dimensional travel always gave. On the other side, Phil pulled his coat up to his ears and shivered at the sudden drop in temperature. They might have grown up in the snow, but Phil privately thought it was a bit masochistic that Techno decided to settle in the tundra now when he had his pick of climes.

“That might work,” Techno conceded.

“Can you make sure it’s someplace warm, then?”

Techno snorted. “It’s cold, but it’s hard to be snuck up on in the snow. Even if you’re invisible, you leave tracks.”

Phil looked back at the trail they had made from the portal. Two clean lines of travel that terminated where they were now, crunching through the snow banks at the edge of the cabin’s woodland. “After all of this, we’re going to build a beach shack. Or maybe set up shop in the Nether.”

“Do you think you can keep Ghostbur from tracking us down again? Dream had to have tracked him or Tommy to find my house. Probably Tommy, but it’s not the hardest thing to get information from Ghostbur, y’know. I like the guy, but he’s an open book.”

“He’s not always around, but I think I can keep him in one place long enough if I have to,” Phil assured him. Ghostbur was easy enough to distract; he just wanted to play. “If he brings Friend, I can teach him how to shear their- are you okay?”

Phil’s anxiety spiked as Techno stopped in his tracks in the snow. He could see the piglin’s nose flaring and relaxing in a flutter, which looked a little strange considering that his nose looked human from the outside, but Phil knew enough that he was picking up on a scent.

Phil took a few tentative steps forward to see Techno’s expression, and Techno’s bright fuchsia eyes were wide, round, and looked completely through him. He scanned the middle distance, opening his mouth to breathe the scent in deeper, and his brow knit in worry.

“Techno,” Phil said gently, touching his friend’s shoulder for a moment to try and bring him back to the present.

_ Tktktktktk. _

Techno started, shook his head as if clearing it, and stalked around the trees with a new sense of purpose. “Dream was here. I can smell him. He was right here. He was  _ here _ , and I can smell Tommy over there-” he pointed, sharp frown wrapping at his tusks, “-and he was right here.”

“Techno.”

“He was  _ watching  _ him! At closest…” Techno breathed in deeply and choked out the breath as if it were sour with smoke. “At closest he would have only been a few feet away. Phil, he was  _ here _ .”

“Techno, relax,” Phil advised. He squared himself to Techno and offered his palms again, seeing that he was starting to get agitated, and Techno grabbed on instinctively. “Focus. How old is it?”

“Hours, given the wind. It’s- Dream’s isn’t recent, but Tommy’s is.” Techno let out a long, shaky breath, as if only now processing what that meant. “He was here, but he didn’t take Tommy. He left before Tommy did.”

“You’re sure?”

Techno continued to flare his nose, and Philza distantly wondered at how unfitting it looked for The Blade to be wiggling his nose and panicking. It would be charming if Phil couldn’t feel the waves of tension sloughing off Techno even as he calmed. Slowly, he mastered the fear until he was collected back into a carefully neutral mask. “Yeah. Yeah, there’s a stronger scent trail over there. We’ll be able to see his tracks back to the cabin, probably.”

“Then we’re okay. You’re okay,” Phil promised as he patted Techno reassuringly where he touched his shoulder. He gave a little push of encouragement, and followed when Techno numbly started back home.

Sure enough, as they broke the woods into the clearing, one channel of snow had been ploughed fresh by Tommy, following another, shallower trail leading out, half filled by the fresh fall. Techno stalked through the snow purposefully, and Phil could tell he was trying not to run.

“Phil?”

“Mhm?”

“What do we tell him?” Techno looked over his shoulder, and his blank facade had dropped into grief.

“I’ll worry about that.”

“It’s my fault th-”

“No,” Phil insisted firmly. “No it’s not, and he’s my son, Techno. I’m going to do it.”

Techno looked like he was about to argue, but relented. “Thanks.”

“Oi, you brought Phil back with you?” Tommy popped his head out the window and waved.

Phil smiled and flared his good wing out with his open arms, prompting Tommy to disappear. Moments later he was dashing out of the house and through the slush to give Phil a hug, and Phil folded the feathers around until he was making a tent out of his wing for the two of them.

“There’s my boy,” Phil murmured, and kissed the top of Tommy’s head.

“I missed you!”

“Missed you too.”

He held on for a moment longer, then unfurled his wing to let Tommy go. Tommy walked him back to the cottage, brimming with energy. “Why didn’t you come and visit?”

Phil gave him a lopsided smile. “I had no idea where you were until I was under house arrest.”

“Oh,” Tommy said quietly. He cast his gaze out with a furrowed brow. “I sent out invitations, but… that tracks. Dream, wasn’t it?”

“Probably,” Techno agreed from the landing. He scanned over the horizon suspiciously before going inside, and Phil could hear him already shuttering the blinds.

Tommy looked up at him. “He’s not doing so hot, yeah?”

“He’s been worried since he caught the scent of Dream on the way back. Did you see him?”

“Dream? No.”

“He was practically on top of you!” Techno supplied sharply before pushing past the two of them to slide down the ladder.

Phil motioned for Tommy to follow him to the furnace, where he warmed his hands as he spoke. “Don’t take it personally, Tommy,” Phil said under his breath. “He gets territorial.”

“I-I though that Dream wasn’t coming back soon.”

“He’ll be keeping an eye on us so Techno can’t try anything.”

Tommy frowned. “Then what’s our plan to beat him?”

Phil started rooting through the nearby chests to check their stock. “Techno’s going to scout out a place for us for now, and we’ll move once it’s set up.”

“We’re running?” Tommy asked, incredulous. “But Technoblade doesn’t run!”

“Call it a strategic retreat,” Techno suggested, climbing up from the basement.

“We aren’t going to fight him?”

“ _ We _ ,” Phil insisted, “aren’t going to be doing anything.”

“That’s no’...” Tommy began, but trailed off with a slump.

Techno didn’t wait for him to continue. “Nothing looks off below. Tommy, did you see anything out of the ordinary? Anything unusual or out of place?”

Phil watched Tommy lock eyes with Techno and squirm under the intensity of the gaze. Techno was intimidating at the best of times, but Phil still couldn’t parse something behind the way Tommy looked down at his feet when he muttered, “...No, nothing.”

Phil chalked it up to disappointment. Sometimes Tommy spoiled for a fight, especially when trying to help. It’s what got L’Manberg its freedom perhaps, but it also cost him his discs. There might not be any blood relation between the three of them, but sometimes Phil thought that was him taking after Techno.

Their loyalty was going to get them both killed someday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I typically hate the liar/miscommunication trope so please know that I'm keenly aware of its use here and will endeavor to use it judiciously instead of making it pure frustration.
> 
> I have 15+ pages spread around three other Techno-centric stories. I intend to cycle through the stories with relative equality to keep updates from being too far in between.


	6. To Sleep, Perchance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Philza tries to make things a little better. He succeeds! Sort of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Added a gore tag for mild-moderate gore. Also revisiting some non-consensual sexual themes in this, so be cautious.
> 
> Also, apologies! I initially accidentally updated this to abattoir lol.

“I’m not an invalid,” Techno groused at him.

Phil didn’t mind. He didn’t think Techno would ever shed the tetchiness he got when he was being taken care of. It had made him a hellion to handle when he was small and had taken ill, so Phil was prepared for some pushback.

The bed hadn’t been made as much as it had been reconstructed. They both could and had slept on stone flooring easily, but Phil knew that one of Techno’s greatest indulgences was his sleeping arrangements.

While Techno rode Carl along the perimeter of the cottage’s land, paranoia fueling his need to secure his territory, Phil had set to stripping his bed down. He clicked his tongue at how measly the mattress was, stuffed with old wool likely from the sheep in the area. Techno’s selective austerity would always mystify Phil. He knew it came from their humble origins, but how Techno could wear a crown and still not buy blankets long enough to cover his feet was beyond him.

Phil quickly took some of the spare fabric and loose wool from Techno’s chest and crafted a few more pillows. By the time he was done, he had covered the bed entirely in the pillows and tucked the sheet over them to secure them in place. The blanket was next. It was decent, but too short, and it smelled like Techno had spilled a healing potion on it. Phil thought he might wash it. He retrieved the spare linens from where they had stored them when Techno had first moved in the meantime, layering them so there was enough draped over the end that Techno would be able to keep his toes warm as well.

Hastily, he stuffed some of the looser-felted wool between the sheets. It reminded Phil of the old raw fleece Techno and he used as insulation during the winter months of their first years together, when the closest thing they had to a home was the barn of whatever farmer they had helped that day in exchange for a hot meal. Except it was already cleaned and carded, so it was as soft and smooth as water. The memory of Techno, hardly more than a toddler and coming up short to Phil’s hip, buried in loose fluff and nuzzling into a patch of wool like it was his mother, made Phil smile fondly down at the bed.

Techno still wasn’t back, so Phil rooted around his stores and found few odds and ends. Cocoa beans, a milk bucket, some lilacs, a few discs of music and a jukebox. He made a mug of chocolate milk and set music on low, and by the time Techno was back and grooming Carl outside, Phil was just sprinkling a regeneration potion on the freshly-potted lilac. The wilting petals smoothed and brightened, and its aroma flooded the room.

Naturally, the first thing that Techno did upon finding Phil was to bluster. He was shite at taking care of himself, and almost as shite at letting other people take care of him.

“I know you’re not an invalid, but allow me to dote on my firstborn a little,” Philza replied, handing over the milk. Techno accepted it awkwardly, drank half of it and paused with a thoughtful look on his face. Then drank the other half. “It used to put you right to bed, you know.”

Techno looked at him out of the corner of his eye, still sheepish. “I remember.”

Techno shed the outer layers of clothes until he was down to his undergarments and lifted up the top layer of blankets to slip into the woolen roost. Phil could see the moment where he noticed the carded wool; the little jerk of his head and the almost imperceptible oink of surprise. It warmed Phil’s heart to see Techno soften and the heavy weight of nostalgia stutter out with his breath. He crawled in gingerly, and even nuzzled up some of the fluff like a sow making a nest in hay. “Is the music too loud?”

“No, it’s-” Techno began, his voice already low with sleepiness. “It’s good. You’ll make sure to keep an eye on Tommy?”

“Of course.”

“And you’ll check the perimeters, like we talked about?”

“Yes, Techno.”

“And-”

Philza held up a hand, voice firm. “Go to bed. It is literally  _ days  _ past your bedtime.”

“I don’t have a bedtime,” Techno argued, but his voice was already rough: low from being sleepy and quiet from how close to rest he now was.

Phil watched as Techno’s eyes drooped, then shut, before fluttering open in a desperate attempt to stay alert. And again. And again. He’d nod off eventually, but Phil was feeling generous, so he sat at the foot of the bed, bouncing his leg on the floor and making the pillows rock slightly from the motion.

Phil hummed along with the jukebox, not terribly concerned with matching the notes. On a few occasions, Phil thought he heard Techno join in, but it was hard to tell with the music playing. When the song looped the first time, Phil turned to check on him, and Techno’s mouth was parted, drool collecting in the wool and nose turned up from the angle, already asleep.

That had to be a record. Then again, the last time Phil had lulled Techno to sleep like this, he had much more of the inexhaustible energy that kids had. Wilbur and Tommy had been fussy sleepers, but both never so bothered as Techno seemed to be.

Did that really matter, though?

Techno was only twenty-one. Not for the first time, Phil stopped himself before reflexively reaching out to rub Techno’s back. Phil was a tactile person, and never really broke himself of the instinct to hug his oldest when he was upset, but he tried to stop himself in time. It was selfish, when Techno so clearly prickled under physical contact at the best of times.

But that meant that looking down at his boy now, exhausted and battered and hurt as he was, Phil felt a squirming sense of helplessness. Chocolate milk wasn’t a hug, and a hug wasn’t  Phil  _ being there _ , protecting him and making sure he was safe.

Phil stood as quickly as he could without disturbing him and moved downstairs. The wave of guilt that finally caught up to him washed over him, and the chest-tight-throat-tight pressure pushed into him since Techno first spoke his halting recount in L’Manberg finally came to a head. He tried to distract himself by sorting the chests that he had gone through earlier, but after only two he had to stop, sit, and let himself cry.

He wasn’t loud; he didn’t want to wake Techno upstairs or alert Tommy, who he could hear tinkering with his crafting table downstairs. Why had he stayed in L’Manberg when Techno had left?

He knew why. Phil was angry at himself for even asking. Techno was a grown man, not an uncoordinated toddler like he might have been when Phil first met him. He was an adult, and independent,  _ fiercely  _ so, and it was foolish to think he should still be hovering over him when Techno had more than proved himself to be capable. Phil didn’t know anyone more capable, including himself.

But still. Why hadn’t he been there? It doesn’t matter how pointless or illogical a question it was, why? How was that fair? Wilbur, and now Techno-

“Dad?”

Philza’s head darted to the ladder, where Tommy’s eyes just peeked over the edge of the flooring. In an instant, he forced a smile and made his voice go light and pleasant. “Tommy! Do you want some honey? I just harvested some fresh. Damn pollen will take my only life at this rate.”

Phil was a good liar when he wanted to be. Typically he didn’t want to be with his own children, but if he wasn’t there for Wilbur or Tech no, the last thing he wanted was to burden Tommy any more than he already had.

The lie wouldn’t have flown with Techno (or Wilbur), but Tommy was a bit younger, and a bit more trusting. Phil saw his concern flash into relief and then pleased as he went to the nearest chest. “This one?”

Phil wordlessly pointed to the chest one over, not trusting his voice to keep from cracking. Tommy rooted through the chest and took some of the bottles for himself and muttered something to himself about keeping his energy up so he could ‘get swole’ and ‘get mad bitches’. The prattling set Philza’s heart at ease a bit, seeing Tommy still being Tommy. 

“Keeping yourself busy, then?” Phil asked as he watched Tommy scarf down a golden apple.

“Mhm!” Tommy chewed at what remained at the core before dropping it back into one of the chests before pulling out arrows and stowing them away. Phil wondered how Techno kept from strangling the kid. “I’ve been helping Techno train. You know, just giving him pointers. Correcting his form. That kind of stuff.”

Phil bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. “Is that so?”

“Oh, yeah. He started out rubbish- I mean, everyone’s rubbish compared to me- but he’s made lots of progress. I reckon by the time we hunt down Dream he might be decent backup.”

Phil’s smile faltered, and when he forced himself to grin through the unease it felt like there were fingers shoved into his cheeks to keep it there. “We’re not going to see Dream for a while if we can help it.”

Tommy didn’t look up from the supplies he sifted through, restocking his pearls next. “Yeah I know that’s what Techno said, but that’s a load of bollocks. He- he- he just needs to rest and chill out for a bit. Some good old R an’ R. Gotta get his naps in, his beauty sleep. He needs it- ha-HA!”

The feeling of unease spread into a disquiet that tinted the whole room. Tommy rambled, that's what he did, but he did it more when there was something on his mind. Techno wasn’t the only person that he failed to protect. It was Phil and Tommy that was the root of Techno’s submission, from what Phil had gathered, and if Tommy had heard everything, then Phil might not be alone in drowning from the guilt.

Phil hadn’t been there for Techno, but he would be damn sure he could be for Tommy, and Techno would want that too. He wouldn’t mind Phil bending the truth to keep Tommy from spiraling himself. “Between the two of us, I’m sure we can take care of ourselves. He needs time. It was just… it’s a lot to go through, Tommy.”

_ What Techno  _ needs  _ is the people he cares about to stay safe and far enough away that they couldn’t be easily targeted _ , but Phil couldn’t let Tommy blame himself. Techno could take Dream in a duel, Phil was sure, and if it came down to trading lives, he had every faith that Techno would come out on top, but he wouldn’t risk it at the cost of Tommy’s or his own last life.

“Yeah.” Tommy hesitated, looking down into one of the ender pearls in what might approximately be thoughtfulness. “Yeah, it’s a lot.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Phil offered gently.

“Nope!”

Phil cursed as Tommy scampered away towards the woods and slammed the door behind him. After checking that it didn’t wake Techno up, Phil stood at the bottom of the ladder, bone-weary and feeling frustrated at everything. It was hard to tell if Tommy was beating himself up about it, or if this was just another instance of not wanting to dwell on his feelings.

Phil sighed. Either way, Tommy would come around in his own time. And this time, Phil promised himself he would be there.

\--

Techno craned his neck up, peering through the dark towards the platform above him. He could see well enough without them, but his glasses had been knocked into the snow during the fight. He could just make out the wooden planks, and could see in his mind’s eye the cracked anvil perched atop it, waiting to swoop.

He pulled at his chestplate to get at his bag, and the gleaming netherite crumbled like dry clay. Even the leather straps withered and sloughed away, slithering into dust. Then his greaves, his boots. Glinting netherite dust tumbled down his face, itching and scratchy as it spilled into his eyes. When he rubbed them clean, Dream’s mask was peering at him through the bars, and he heard the mechanical crunch of pistons withdrawing.

His heart dropped faster than the anvil, and he looked up. The anvil hung in the air, suspended feet lower than where the drop had started. It swayed and tilted peacefully as if suspended by a string, but Techno knew. He knew. If he looked away, it would continue to drop.

His hands rose slowly to pat down his body, looking for a totem, a pick, anything that could keep him alive or get him out. The netherite dust burned at his eyes, but he was afraid to even blink, lest it drop another foot when he couldn’t see.

As long as he could see it coming, he was safe. He just had to see it coming. He just had to…

A pair of firm, gentle hands touched him, cupped his face like the distant memory of Philza, or maybe his mother. The fingers pet over his cheeks, and his skin crawled. They scratched lightly and curled and ran to the side to card through his hair like he was a pet. Techno stiffened, determined to watch the anvil, to save himself, but he could see the pale mask at the very bottom of his vision.

For just a moment, he squeezed his eyes shut to ease the burn of the sand and the dry air, and the anvil was closer, so much closer, its momentum still imbued in the metal planes like the cracks were enchantments holding deadly power as well as an axe or sword. His own dread multiplied, condensed, and knotted in his stomach even as Dream placed a chain of soft kisses at his throat.

A wall of water filmed over his eyes as he swallowed down sour bile. At least that would keep him from having to blink. Techno’s hands rose blindly, trying to find Dream to push him away, back through the iron bars (the glass panes?) that he had reached through.

He sunk up to his wrists in something warm and tight and pulsing, beating in tandem with his own heartbeat, which pounded like his very own personal percussive dirge. How was Dream’s tongue in his mouth when his mouth was closed? Techno tried to pull his hands away and feel for where the many hands, the dozen palms, the scores of fingers, attached to a body, but it pulled and sucked at him like the odd flesh was boglands.

The hands on his face probed his mouth. Toyed at his tusks and flicked an ear with a playful intimacy that had Techno sweating and cold. Fingertips rose and rose, following him as he thrashed and pulled away, whimpering at the fingers sinking into the flesh of his thighs and ass and other places. They rose on his face, creeping up his cheeks and tracing his eye socket, dancing into his vision.

The anvil. The  _ anvil _ . Techno kept his neck craned, his throat bare, even as he felt Dream’s tongue pushing past the back of his throat, down and down, thick and burning hot, and wet. The tears broke over his waterline and seeped into the crease between Techno’s face and where Dream’s skin melted into him, smoothing it to a waxy scar tissue. The weight of Dream hanging off him, dragging him down, made the muscles in his neck strain and shake.

“You feel good,” Dream hummed inside him, absently, and the weight finally made Techno bow his head.

The crush was different from the first. He felt the anvil connect with his crown, and then it was as the totem felt, but in reverse. The skin of his scalp split against his skull in ripples of blood, and the bone crack-crack-cracked until shards scattered around them, and the weight crumpled and pressed, and then nothing.

He woke breathing hard, soaked in sweat and entangled in the soft blankets with just enough time to wrestle his arm out and fetch the metal bucket he kept by the bed. Once he could toss it aside, now heavy with half-digested steak, he began the arduous task of sitting up.

It hadn’t been the best dream he’s had since, but it hadn’t been his worst. Philza wasn’t in the loft this time, which was a mixed blessing. Techno selfishly liked him being there when he woke, silently sympathetic and level-headed, but they learned early for him to not wake Techno when he was in the throes. The first and last time, Techno had broken his nose and gave him a fat lip before he had been lucid, and from there he had made Phil  _ promise _ .

But he knew Phil. Sitting around with no way to help was its own little nightmare, and though he hid it well, Techno thought he had enough of that from his brief stint of house arrest, watching from his balcony as the anvil- the  _ anvil… _

“Awake?” Phil asked, climbing up the ladder with a fresh pail of water.

Techno snorted affirmatively, scouring his face with his hand. He felt dehydrated and muzzy, and drank the offered water greedily. When he was done, he rubbed at his eyes, pushing away the sleep and encroaching headache. “I was that loud, then.”

“Tommy is out filling some creeper holes, don’t worry.”

He hated the thought of Tommy hearing him like that. He could hardly stand Phil there, but if there was one thing he had learned in the days since bringing Phil out to the cottage, it was how easy the man made his tacit assistance. “I need to go today, Phil. Don’t bother trying to talk me out of it.”

Phil sighed, looking older than he really was. His frown was thin and disapproving, but his voice was mild. “You need to feel safe.”

‘And I can’t do that’ went unspoken.

“I don’t want to just wallow here,” Techno said, trying to sound lighthearted, but his frustration slipped through. “I’m sleeping better.”

“Not great.”

“But better,” Techno implicitly agreed.

Phil was silent for a time, face tight with doubt. “You’ll be back within a day.”

It wasn’t a question, but Techno wanted to ease his friend’s conscience. “I will.”

It was Phil’s time to scrub at his face, rubbing his palm at the rough stubble as he thought. “I’ll make two packs. One for you-”

“Phil,” Techno warned.

“And one for when I ride to distract Dream,” Phil continued, holding up a hand as a sign to calm. “We are probably enough bait to keep his interest if you leave, considering that we’re his leverage,” Phil said, sneering at the idea that Dream would keep tabs on him and Tommy before Techno. It was true- it followed that keeping track of them was a higher priority than Techno himself since Dream couldn’t expect to win in a straight fight. Techno also knew how much it rankled Phil to be relegated to the role of hostage. “It’ll be more convincing if it looks like I’m prepared to leave long-term.”

“Bring Tommy,” Techno suggested automatically.

“Dream won’t make a move towards him now. The more his attention is split up, the better chance you have of going undetected,” Phil reasoned.

Techno stood, stretched, and finished the water as he thought. Phil was right, as much as he hated to admit it. Reluctantly, he agreed. “Short trips out, then. With a totem.”

“Course, mate. Eat before you leave.” Phil clasped his shoulder as Techno moved past. “And don’t forget the communicator. That’s what it’s there for. If you can handle the voices all the time, you can put an old man’s mind at ease and bother with one more.”

Techno smiled wanly at Phil’s teasing, and a weight that hung around his throat lessened just a little. “I know.”


End file.
